


Home

by lovelure



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Episode Tag, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-30
Updated: 2013-05-21
Packaged: 2017-11-27 13:24:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 44,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/662490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelure/pseuds/lovelure
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Danny awaits the results of his custody hearing, he starts to realize that home is where his heart is…and that's changed a lot in the last couple of years. A missing-scene fic for 3x14 – 'Hana I WaʻIa' (Scandal) – from sunrise to sunset and beyond. Chapters 1-7 re-posted after complete DVD review. Several new vignettes & more backstory. Carguments and bromance. No slash.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Not Good Enough (Danny Williams's Apartment)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New Author's Notes as of 5/20/2013: For anyone who has already started this story, I apologize for the long wait. I really wanted to finish reworking the existing chapters (1-7) before writing the final two.
> 
> When I started writing, I had only watched a handful of H50 episodes (and most of those were watched as background noise). Then I saw Hana I Wa'Ia and fell in love with the show (especially Danny and Steve). I started writing this fic pretty much right after seeing it, so this is my first foray into the H50 universe.
> 
> It was only after initially posting Chapters 1-7 that I was able to go back and watch all the episodes on DVD/VOD. Since then, I've tweaked a bunch, so I think they read better now, there's more backstory, and the characters are more IC. The macro story hasn't changed, so if you don't feel like re-reading, everything should still make sense. But there are several new vignettes sprinkled throughout that I'm pretty fond of that I hope you'll enjoy, too.

  
***** Not Good Enough (Danny Williams's Apartment) ***  
**

_Danny Williams's dreams were filled with visions of chasing a five-year-old version of his daughter, Grace, through casino gaming rooms where she playfully pulled the handle on slot machines and scooted behind cocktail waitresses and the loud, pinging machines as she darted through the gaming hall. With each pull, the background noise got louder, the lights and pings exploding in headache-inducing cacophony. "Catch me if you can," she giggled, as she had on frequent occasions as they had played hide-and-seek in their old home in Jersey. "Aw, Danno. You can do better than that!" she teased._

_Grace disappeared behind a digital poker machine and re-materialized on the edge of the Bellagio fountain twirling at water's edge. Looking closer to her current age of 10, she stood on tippy-toe and held her arms out gracefully. "Danno, pick me up and swing me around like you used to!" Danny's mind flashed to a toddler-sized Grace in pink leotard, tutu, and bunny slippers. He swung her around the kitchen like a helicopter while his then-wife Rachel looked on, smiling as she made dinner. "Danno, watch me!" current-day Grace laughed, dancing in time to the music as she had at her pre-ballet recital. Step-step-plié; step-step-sauté — "Eek! Danno! Help!" she shrieked, losing her footing on the slippery surface and falling into the fountain. Cymbals crashed and colored streams of water erupted, creating a moving maze of barriers between them. Danny felt himself getting soaked as he weaved his way towards her. But just as he reached her and held out a hand, she faded into a cloud of blue and red spray._

_When she reappeared, she looked older, with crimson red-stained lips – and she was marching around a swanky boutique, looking like she owned the place. "Danno, can I have one of these?" she asked, picking up a necklace, heavily laden with diamonds. "Or how about this," she asked, playfully modeling a fur coat. Danny wondered how many months' salary it would have cost, and how his pet-loving daughter could stand touching, much less wearing the pelts of cute, furry animals –_ dead _, cute, furry animals. "Pretty please?" Grace curled her lips into a flirtatious pout. Danny felt his blood boil with fatherly protectiveness, wondering how often she'd practiced that pout…and what teenaged bucket of overactive hormones had been on the receiving end. Danny's hands reflexively curled up into fists. Grace walked over to the hat display and selected out an outrageously large hat, covered with fuchsia feathers. "Or, how about_ this?" _she asked, placing it roguishly askance atop her head, her eyes gleaming._

_Danny found himself fixated on the feathers as they seemed to grow in place from their already ridiculous eight-inch height to more than two feet. By the time he looked below them again, he found them attached to the head of a barely-clad showgirl he could only see from the back. "Oh, no," he thought. "Not this. Anything but this." "Anything but what, Danno?" asked a husky female voice. The head turned around and Danny's worst fears were confirmed. He covered his face with his hands, and through his fingers, he could just make out a shapely, illusion-covered figure, with strategically placed sparkly flowers covering only most intimate bits. "Would you believe I can almost triple my salary in my tips_ _after the show if I just — "_

" _NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"_

A few hours earlier, Danny had fallen asleep on the sofa, preparing his statement for his upcoming Family Court hearing. But now he sat bolt upright, knocking Grace's pink zebra-print reading pillow off the edge. "No way!" he said out loud. Then, "No way, no way, no _fucking_ way." He rested his elbows on his knees and held onto his aching head.

Danny had never been to Las Vegas, but he'd spent a good number of weekends in his pre-married-with-kids days hanging out in Atlantic City. It had been a great place to hang out with his buddies, drinking beer, smoking cigars, playing poker, and ogling girls. His brother, Matt had returned from a bachelor's party in Vegas, raving about the high-roller suites, and Danny was pretty sure he could put one to good use, given the chance.

But Vegas as a place to live and raise a daughter? Danny already knew he'd hate it, just as he'd known he would hate Hawaii before he had upturned his life to move to the oversized lava pit. Yet even before the nightmares had started, he had been plagued by the unshakeable feeling that Vegas would be a thousand times worse. _As if lounge lizards, dancing girls, and casino moguls actually made any material contribution to society._

It had been nearly eight months since the stack of legalese-filled papers had been hand-delivered to him, coldly informing him that Rachel was seeking a custody modification so she and Stan could move Grace to Las Vegas. And even still, Danny found himself wondering, almost daily, _How the hell had it come to this?_

_Stupid_ _Stanley Edwards and his stupid freakin' real estate empire,_ Danny muttered to himself. _Goddamned Step Stan. Godamned Step Stan who gets to go home every night to his precious Kahala mansion, helps_ my daughter _with her homework, wraps his arms around_ my _Rachel,_ and _tucks Charlie into bed. Charlie should have been mine. Hell, Stan's whole life should have been mine._

Danny had replayed the timeline over in his head again and again, wondering what he could have done to avoid this.

After Danny had stood up Rachel and Grace at the airport the previous spring – "For work, Daniel? Again? For Five-0?" Rachel had demanded accusingly, challenging him to deny it – she had sworn she would never trust her heart to him again. She had considered that flight to New Jersey to be their last chance at a second chance. After Stan pleaded with her to return to the Island, it had taken a good long while before Rachel was ready to return to the same time zone, much less to forgive Danny for getting Grace's – and her own – hopes up and then letting them down again.

But over the next few months, Rachel eventually learned the full story of why Danny had stayed behind and she began to understand his choice. And as she watched Danny devotedly doting on Grace, and the worshipful love their daughter reciprocated, she couldn't help but thaw… a little.

Upon her return, Rachel was determined to reconcile with Stan – "to make things work for the baby." But as weeks turned to months, Rachel found herself once again remembering things she'd once loved about Danny. His shy smile with the crinkles around the eyes. The unexpected giggle. The oddest mixed metaphors. His swagger. And that tush.

Both Danny and Rachel were careful to keep each other literally an arm's length away, chatting coolly about Grace, the weather, New Jersey news. But as summer's heat gave away to muggy days and humid nights, before she even realized what she was doing, Rachel had invited Danny into the house to escape one of the frequent downpours that came with the rainy season. A dry towel and iced tea had turned into wine and pizza night, and they had once again begun talking, joking, and confiding in each other as they had done so many times over the last dozen years.

Then came the day –almost a year ago now – when Rachel had unexpectedly gone into labor. Danny had been drafted into action, as Stan was inconveniently away on business. _And Rachel thinks_ my _job_ _keeps me from being there for my family? I can't believe I sent the son of a bitch a picture from the baby ward. Christ, I oughta get a fuckin' medal for that,_ Danny thought to himself.

But then, Rachel's gratitude had quickly shifted back to panicked fear when Rick Peterson appeared on the scene just a few short weeks later. His spiteful quest for vengeance reminded Rachel in no uncertain terms of how much Danny risked for the job she knew he would never willingly give up. As she waited anxiously for news about Grace's whereabouts, she felt likeall her deepest fears had been validated –that Danny would one day put not only his only his own life at risk, but that of Grace, and as it turned out on this instance, Stan as well.

Somehow, she'd managed to conveniently forget that it was paper-pusher Stan's business that had gotten Grace and herself carjacked the previous year. "It wasn't his fault," she'd rationalized to herself and to Danny on more than one occasion. "He was naïve. How could he have known how dirty those other guys played? He won't make that mistake again."

"You, Daniel, on the other hand," she'd bitterly reminded him, "volunteer to go back for more every day." Of course, the fact that Danny had agreed to keep Stan's dealings quiet so Grace wouldn't think her stepfather was a goddamned rotten crook hadn't helped his case.

Rachel had let Danny back in, only to find herself once again deathly worried about losing him – and Grace – permanently. So, by the time the dust settled from the Peterson fiasco, and Stan's shoulder was on the mend, Rachel had already started circling her wagons – mentally and physically.

In the meantime, what Danny didn't know, was that Stan had already been finalizing the arrangements that would take his business to Las Vegas, even as he left his office to meet Danny at the beach at Peterson's insistence. Injured and victimized – all the better, by Danny's hand – Stan saw a perfect opportunity to solidify his future, knowing Rachel would never leave him in a time of need.

So, one afternoon, as Rachel fluffed his pillows and arranged his lunch on a tray, he announced his intent to move to Nevada. "It's a great deal, baby," he'd said beaming. "I promise you: you, Grace, and Charlie are gonna have everything you ever wanted," he added, pulling her into his arms.

"That's great, darling," she'd replied tonelessly, nuzzling her face against his shoulder so he wouldn't see the tears that were pooling in her eyes. It took only a few days before she realized that Stan was not likely to be dissuaded. There was no way she would let Charlie grow up without a dad, and she was certainly not going to leave without Grace. She only hoped that she might somehow make it easier both for herself to leave Danny behind, and for him to let them go.

Soon thereafter, Rachel stopped inviting Danny in for coffee and a cookie when he dropped off Grace at the end of his weekend visits. Instead, Danny found Rachel offering all measures of barely plausible reasons for him to quickly depart. _Grace has a big project due tomorrow. I have a headache like you wouldn't believe. It's taken forever to get Charlie down and he's a really light sleeper. Stan has company coming_ ….

Danny could feel their painstakingly-forged détente slipping away. Frustrated, he found himself turning more and more to his fledgling relationship with Dr. Gabriella Asano. Unlike Rachel, whom he'd loved with his entire heart and soul – and at one time hated with just as much passion – his newfound courtship with Gaby was still uncomplicated and carefree. Danny enjoyed her company, and she helped remind him was alive, and more than just a cop and a dad.

Whether by coincidence or causality, shortly after he finally got up the nerve to introduce Grace to Gabby, things with Rachel became even more tense. She and Stan "unexpectedly" had to go out of town, forcing him to inconveniently switch weekends at the last minute. Pick-up times were changed, and notes from school were inexplicably lost in transit. Rachel regularly berated him for being late, missing pick-ups, and introducing a fifth-wheel in their already complicated family relationship.

As much as Danny tried to stay on Rachel's "good side" (which made its appearance with decreasing frequency), the irritants continued to intensify. Though Grace couldn't miss the tension between her parents, Danny still continued to greet her with a big smile and hug, treasuring each hard-earned moment with her all the more. Even, still, he had begun to wonder how the mother of his daughter – the woman a part of him still wanted to spend his life with – had turned into this she-devil who seemed to have adopted making his life miserable as her life's mission.

Even after four months of passive-aggressive baiting, Rachel realized she couldn't delay any longer – the end of the school year was coming up, and if they were going to move with Grace, they needed to get going. Danny was showing no signs of relinquishing attention or loosening his bonds with her, so, unable to face him in person, she had her attorney draft up the custody change papers and had them delivered by a courier.

Danny had stared dumb-founded at the papers in his hand, his eyes crossing and uncrossing in hopes that the blur of letters would re-form themselves differently. But after the initial bout of shellshock, it had only taken Danny a few hours to realize that there was no way he was going to let Rachel and Stan waltz away with Grace without putting up a fight.

"When you and Rachel go to war, the only one who's gonna lose is Grace," Steve had warned him. But Stanley had refused to budge and Rachel had done her best to present a unified front with her husband.

And so the next eight months had taken a toll on all of them. Danny and Rachel barely exchanged words when they saw each other in person – aside from necessary logistical details. Danny saw the housekeeper and nanny more often than he saw Rachel most weeks. And Grace had learned to be careful not to talk about one parent in front of the other.

At first, all the adults had tried to hide the move from her, but when Grace overheard one of Stan's colleagues talking about getting together again "once you get your family settled in Las Vegas," she had nervously called Danny to ask, "Are mommy and Step Stan getting divorced?" And then upon hearing the reply, tearfully blurted out in one fell swoop, "I don't even know where Las Vegas is, Danno. Do I have to move there? Are you gonna move too? What about Uncle Steve? And Auntie Kono? And Aloha Girls Olé Oh-Lei! Ceremony?"

Working a murder scene – on the North Shore, no less – while his daughter barricaded herself in her bedroom at Rachel and Stan's house, Danny had rarely ever felt so helpless. All he wanted to do was get in the car, find her and reassure her that there was no way she would have to move to Las Vegas – and that in the unlikely circumstance that she actually moved, he would certainly follow. But the best he could manage was to lock himself in the semi-privacy of his car, and to pass along a semi-reassuring pep talk. Even then, he knew – since he had filed the papers to contest the modification – the final decision remained largely in the hands of the state family court system, and out of his control. And even though he'd tried to suppress the possibility, he had indeed started thinking about what a move to Las Vegas would entail and it had left him feeling all the more helpless.

After months of briefings and testimony, supervised visits with social workers, and affidavits, Danny felt like their court date would never arrive. He'd spent the better part of the last two months working and reworking his address to the court, wordsmithing, polishing and preparing. All the I's had been dotted and T's crossed weeks ago, and he'd spent an embarrassing number of hours practicing the damned thing in the car en route between crime scenes and suspect and witness interrogations.

Danny had started off trying to practice in his head, still trying to preserve his privacy and dignity. That is, until Steve badgered, cajoled, and just plain bullied him into reading it aloud. Then Steve had proceeded to tweak, make fun of, and constructively critique it until they were both sick of it, but certain that it was a stronger statement as a result.

But now that the long-awaited judgment day had finally arrived, Danny felt himself filled with dread. As the first rays of orange and pink-tinted light peeked through his windows, and his nightmare replayed in his mind, he re-read his notes and found himself shaking his head, with increasing intensity.

"No!" he shouted out loud, ceremonially launching the stack of notecards across the room; he stood up, pacing back and forth, hands perched on the back of his hips. "It's not good enough!" he concluded. "It _has_ to be good enough. I _am not_ going to lose my daughter. Who does Rachel she think she is dragging Gracie to Hawaii and then Las Vegas?"

Danny's arms freed themselves and took on a life of their own, raising up to question his invisible audience, then pointing to and dismissing his absent ex-wife. "Sin City? Really? Who moves their kid _to_ Sin City? What the hell are you thinking, Rachel? You _cannot_ move Grace to Las Vegas. You hear that, Rachel, I'm not gonna let you take her away from me and from everyone she loves!" he shouted, hoping he wouldn't overtax the sound insulation on his apartment. _And I'm sure as hell not letting you uproot my life again. I left my family once for you and Grace. I'm not doing it again._

Danny paused as an idea crystalized in his mind.

He turned a quick 180 and scrambled across the room, rifling through his desk in search of paper and a writing implement. He brushed aside yesterday's mail, a tube of Hello Kitty lip gloss _(what the hell does a ten-year-old need lip gloss for anyways?)_ , the menu from last night's take-out, and a stack of neon pink heart-shaped Post-Its.

"Aw, come on," he muttered. "Where the hell is plain old ordinary blank paper when you need it?" He continued haphazardly opening and closing drawers. "Come on, come on…Where are you?"

He moved onto the side drawers, finally finding a few blank pages in a half-used legal pad. _Thank you_ , he mouthed before sitting down at the kitchen table. He began to write furiously, alternating between frantic scribbling and infuriating moments of writer's block.

Forty-minutes later, he had what he thought was an acceptable draft. With the adrenalin from his rude awakening and the subsequent inspiration wearing off, he rested his head on the table. "It's gotta be better than acceptable. It's got to be perfect. It's got to be completely perfect," he muttered, slowly drifting back into a restless and uncomfortable sleep.

Danny awoke again at 6:30 a.m., when the alarm he'd set on his phone invaded his restless sleep. His back was stiff from sleeping slumped over in the hard-backed chair, and his face, sticky from his earlier panic, stuck to the sides of his notes.

He peeled the pages off his cheek and spread them out on the table in front of him. "Rachel" _,_ he read aloud to himself, "We may have had our differences, but we did one thing very right together. We made an angel…."

After reading it through a dozen or so times, tweaking here, rewording there, he finally dragged himself into the shower, letting the water run cold as he continued to rehearse his revised plea.

As he stepped out, he heard his phone ringing from the bedroom. He quickly wrapped a towel around his waist, the cool water still on his shoulders cooling even more so in the air conditioning. He shivered lightly as he answered, "Yeah."

"Hey," spoke the voice on the other end of the line. "It's me."

"Hey, I know you pride yourself on your Navy-SEAL stealth capabilities, but there's this technology called Caller ID, you know?" Danny said, sitting down on the edge of his bed. "Maybe you've heard of it? My phone has it, your phone…"

"Yeah, I'm familiar with it." Steve McGarrett could sense the tension in his partner's voice – Danny's biting sarcasm was always a little more aggressive when he was under pressure.

"Sorry," Danny said. "Just a little tense."

"I know, man. I can't imagine what you're going through," Steve said. "I wish I could do more to help."

Steve's voice betrayed a rare bout of helplessness which Danny mistook for guilt. "You're not gonna back out on me today, are you? I barely know anyone else on this godforsaken island. And much as I love Kono and Chin, there are still people at the courthouse who have their doubts about them, and I can't afford doubts. Not today. Those rumors die hard —"

"Hey," Steve interrupted. "Don't worry. I'll be there. There's no chance I won't be there. Rachel would have to hire a herd of water buffalo to keep me away. Not even…" Steve searched for something that would be impressive enough to convince Danny how certain he was. "…Not even Wo Fat could keep me away."

Danny was grateful for the sentiment, yet he was also struck with an intense sense of dread at the mention of his partner's nemesis. He knew the depths of Steve's loyalty to his friends. He'd seen it when Steve had personally steamrolled his way into the HPD evidence locker to save Chin's life. He'd personally been the beneficiary of Steve's unwavering – and arguably insanely suicidal – loyalty as he stubbornly kept Danny company in the hot zone after Danny accidentally turned himself into a human bomb detonator after unwittingly stepping into the path of a live proximity sensor.

But even trusting Steve daily with his very life, Danny wasn't sure who would come out on top in a virtual tug-of-war between an opportunity to get Wo Fat and his loyalty to his best friend. Danny silently prayed – politely, in case God might actually hear and consider the request – that Wo Fat respectfully stay out of their lives until his custody case got resolved.

"Thanks," Danny replied, mostly confidently. "I know you've got my back." Steve nodded, even knowing that Danny couldn't see the gesture through the phones, and silently promised himself to put aside his unwavering pursuit of Wo Fat. _How could I be such a bonehead? Danny's mind should be on preparing for the custody case, not worrying that I'm going to bail to chase after Wo Fat. Shit. Why'd I mention him?_

Hearing no response, Danny said, "Listen, uh, if you don't have else for me, then, I'm gonna finish getting ready, okay?"

"Yeah, right, of course," Steve said.

Still sensing a distinct lack of conversation from Steve's end of the line, Danny moved to hang up before one more niggling worry verbalized itself. "Hey. You, uh, gonna wear something sensible?"

"Yes, Danny, I'm going to wear something sensible."

"What?"

"What do you mean what? I just told you I'd wear something sensible."

"Not _what_. What are you _wearing_?" Danny clarified.

"I was thinking I'd find some khakis, an Oxford, maybe a cardigan, pair of wing-tips."

Danny knew for a fact that Steve would never let a pair of wing-tips near his closet – he'd snuck a look into Steve's closet when he housesat for him and had found nothing of the sort.

"What're you going for the Mr. Rogers look? Besides, you don't even own any wing-tips."

"And you know that because…?" Steve asked, knowing the answer.

"'Cause I'm a detective – a damned good one. And I know you."

"You mean you're a nosy son-of-a-bitch and you poked through all my closets when you were staying at my house."

"Yeah, that, too. Sue me."

"Look, Danny, everything's gonna be fine," Steve said. "Don't worry."

"Why is it that whenever you say that, half of Hawaii's Most Wanted list usually starts shooting at us?" Danny asked.

Steve began to hang up. "See you at 8:30?"

"Session starts at 8:30. Be there at eight," Danny said, adding, "Please?"

"Okay," Steve agreed. "I'll be there. Don't worry."

Truth be told, after finishing his morning swim and his three-minute Navy shower, Steve had intuitively reached for the next clean T-shirt and pair of cargos before remembering the importance of the day. That recognition was what prompted him to call to check in on Danny in the first place. Then, after they'd hung up, he had sat in front of his closet for the next 15 minutes evaluating what Danny might consider acceptable on this all-important day of days.

Nothing casual, obviously. Preferably something with a tie. Well, that narrowed the options substantially. His tux – which no longer fit nearly as well as it used to after the latest tweaks to his workout began to manifest themselves in his re-sculpted physique – would have been ludicrous in any case. He had a suit that he kept on hand for weddings and funerals, but wearing it always made him feel like a cross between David Byrne and Herman Munster.

A blazer, button-up, and khakis would have been more than acceptable for any other court appearance he'd made in his two-plus years as commander of Five-0, but not today. Knowing that was Danny's everyday wear made it feel too ordinary. Steve wasn't even sure he would be able to even locate a presentable tie – unless he counted the one with bright blue wave crests and red surfboards emblazoned on it, and he was sure Danny would _not_ consider that sensible. _Shit._

As he sat staring at the closet, a spot of white caught his eye from the far back corner of the top shelf. Steve stood up to get a better look. _Maybe, just maybe…_


	2. Dress Blues (Honolulu District Court House)

***** Dress Blues (Honolulu District Court House) ***  
**

After hanging up with Steve, Danny had quickly wolfed down breakfast – orange juice and leftover pizza, not that he noticed what he was eating – before getting dressed, making sure there was no chance of getting food on his clothes before the day even began. He'd forced himself to shave slowly to avoid creating any unsightly scabs, or unnecessary delays fighting styptic sticks to get the offending bleeders to clot.

He'd already gone through his closet earlier in the week and set aside the neatest and most pristine shirt, tie, and suit he could find. His shoes were polished, and the previous evening, he had personally made sure every last wrinkle had been banished from the garments. After neatly tying his tie, he confirmed the knot was perfectly centered, not too big and not too small, then methodically slicked, combed, and re-combed every last hair into place.

He picked up his notes from the table and re-read them once more, pacing as he read, addressing his invisible audience on the couch, then folded his notes and tucked them into his pocket. On his way out, he managed to knock Grace's purple sweater off the doorknob where she'd left it hanging during her last visit. It still smelled like mango shampoo and strawberry body wash. "I'm not gonna let them take you away from me, Monkey," he whispered to himself, carefully rehanging the sweater before grabbing his keys and making his way to his car.

In the car, he reviewed his thoughts, reminding himself to appear sympathetic. Family Court judges still seemed to favor mothers and two-parent households, so that was two strikes already and the first pitch hadn't even been thrown. And he knew all too well that _all_ judges hated hotheads. He knew had to control his emotions – to make it clear that it was the rational, logical, best choice _for Grace_ for her to stay in Hawaii.

_Don't be an ass._ Danny repeated the mantra to himself as he looked up, squinting behind his sunglasses as he walked toward the courthouse entrance. _Why does it always have to be so damned sunny here? I'm having a miserable day!_

He glanced at his watch as he made his way into the courthouse foyer. 7:30 a.m. The hallways were mostly empty still, with only a few legal types exchanging polite pleasantries, legalistic motions, and case details. Danny pulled his slightly crumpled notes out, reviewing them as his arms waved in concert; the sound of his pacing echoing rhythmically underneath the rotunda.

After a few dozen times through, it was 7:58 a.m., but still no McGarrett. Danny had left his phone on vibrate, but still he worried that some emergency might have come in, leaving him alone to face Rachel and the court. He clicked the answer button on his phone and the screen dutifully lit up. No messages. No missed calls. _Okay, it's not eight yet. He'll be here._

Danny forced himself to stop pacing, and took a seat on one of the long wooden benches in the foyer _. Why did they always have to make these benches so damned uncomfortable?_ He'd always hated them when he'd come in to testify, and now they mocked him as he went over his statement again. _Don't read it_ , he reminded himself. _Make eye contact. Don't flail._

He anxiously checked his phone again. 8:15 a.m. _Damn it, Steve. Where are you?_ He grasped his hands in an attempt to keep them from launching into their own accompanying non-verbal discussion.

Focusing nervously on his thoughts, he didn't see Steve approach until he was well within hailing distance. The muted background white-noise of distant chatter, high-heels on marble, and elevator chimes was broken by Steve's casual, "Hey."

Danny stopped rehearsing mid-sentence and looked up, prepared to nod hello and then go right back to his preparation. He had resignedly prepared himself to expect Steve in clean khakis, a blazer, and a button-up (though he feared a polo might make an unwelcomed guest appearance) with the top couple of buttons casually undone. But he was not prepared for the Steve McGarrett who stood in front of him in full military regalia, replete with badges, ribbons and all manner of official decorations, his white cap tucked neatly under his elbow.

Danny knew by any empirical measures, that Steve was a damn fine looking guy. He had even seen Steve in his full Navy get-up before – at Kono's home-grown graduation ceremony and at his ex-partner, Meka Hanamoa's memorial service, among the more memorable occasions – but it had been awhile.

Even still, he was not prepared for the first thought that interrupted his single-minded focus on the day's custody hearing. "Wow." Despite his all-consuming concern for Grace, the word escaped before Danny's brain had time to process a more eloquent response.

Over the past two years, Danny had seen Steve unabashedly ogled by more than anyone's fair share of women – and as Steve's ever-present partner and sidekick (even though he hated being referred to as such), Danny had consequently been on the receiving end of many an accompanying best friend's point, wink, giggle, and wave.

But today, instead of looking like a stud with bedroom eyes and a day's stubble – the one who set the ladies' hearts aflutter – Steve wore his looks authoritatively. He looked respectable. Upstanding. Capable. He even seemed to stand a little taller than his already impressive 6'1". Steve looked every bit like the officer and gentleman Danny knew he was when he wasn't down in the trenches, gung-ho focused on personally exterminating all the criminal elements in Hawaii. And Danny was more than grateful to have him in his corner this morning.

Danny reached a hand up in greeting, but unable to decide between a brotherly "thanks for coming" hug and a collegial handshake. And feeling neither sufficiently captured how grateful he was that Steve was there (and sensibly dressed, no less), he retracted his hand, having done neither.

Danny's voice caught in his throat as he struggled for words of greeting that wouldn't compound his unexpected utterance with verbiage that could be perceived as embarrassingly flowery. "You, uh, you look very…nice. Suit and tie – that's good."

"It's for you," Steve said casually, surveying the foyer. He quickly pointed at Danny to make sure there was no doubt. "I wore it for _you_."

The last word came out a little more emphatically than he'd intended, but, for the first time in years, perhaps decades, he'd actually thought consciously about what he wore, from head to toe. He'd made a choice because he had _wanted_ to – not because regulation, obligation, or decorum dictated that he _had_ to.

He knew Danny hated his preference for comfortable work clothes. Though normally he would have relished an opportunity to make Danny squirm by deliberately ignoring his opinion, the temptation had crossed his mind only fleetingly that morning – before their brief phone conversation had quickly brought him to his senses.

A Grace-less Danny would not only be "graceless" (Steve groaned silently to himself at the lame pun) but would no doubt revert to the insufferable, stick-up-his-ass, if-you-hate-it-so-much-here-why-the-hell-don't-you -just-go-back-East malcontent whom Steve had quickly recognized as his well-matched partner.

Or worse. Danny would suck it up as he'd done three years prior, forget about his work and his own friends – his _ohana_ , and the life he'd fought so hard to build for himself in Hawaii – and uproot himself for Las Vegas. Aside from being back among the tie-wearing detectives of America, Danny would, Steve knew, be miserable.

"Thank you," Danny said, meaning it perhaps more than he'd ever meant it before. Seeing the suit reassured him that that Steve had actually made an effort to be supportive – perhaps had even put some thought and advanced planning into it – and that he wasn't just going through the motions. And at that particular moment in time, when Danny felt like David, armed only with a lowly slingshot, he needed all the support he could get.

Danny shifted in his seat, angling himself towards the empty space where he assumed Steve would sit. Despite several court appearances and other formal occasions, he still couldn't get used to seeing Steve in a suit. He became distinctly aware he was staring at Steve's collar – at the way the white starched folds contrasted with the unusually clean-shaven skin on his tanned neck. He realized he wasn't even aware that he had ever paid any attention to Steve's stubble previously, but now in its conspicuous absence, it was all he could do to avoid noting the contrast.

Steve frowned, wondering why the hell his neck had all of a sudden become so interesting. He brushed a hand against his neck to make sure he hadn't missed a sticky razor cut. As Danny reached towards his collar, Steve batted his hand away. "Hey, what are you doing?" Steve asked.

"Is it a clip-on?" Danny asked, in part out of a latent fear of the answer, in part because he knew the question would get a rise out of Steve so it was practically second nature, and in part because he simply needed something to do.

Steve leaned away from Danny's reaching hand. "It's not a clip-on!" he protested. Danny reached up again and Steve parried with his body. "What'd I just say to you?!"

"Your tie's all jacked up," Danny replied as calmly as he could manage. "Can I fix it please?" There was nothing visibly wrong with Steve's tie, yet Danny reached up again.

On any other day, Steve would have ducked out of reach and made some biting remark about Danny's obsessive compulsiveness. But hearing the hint of urgency in Danny's voice, he stifled his urge to resist. Danny clearly needed something to take his mind off the wait – a wait which would be all the longer due to his insistence on arriving nearly an hour before the session's start time.

Both men unconsciously scanned the hallway to make sure no one was watching who might misinterpret the scene playing out in front of them.

"Come here," Danny said gently. When Steve didn't budge, he repeated, more insistently, as if talking to a child (perhaps a reluctant tween), "Come here."

Steve rolled his eyes and leaned forward. He didn't even like it when Catherine flicked lint off his clothes, so she had long ago stopped trying. He secretly suspected that was one of the reasons the two of them got along so well – she seemed to tolerate all of his idiosyncrasies without trying to make him into some artificially perfect boyfriend.

Danny began fiddling with Steve's tie, his lapel, anything he could get his hands on. He couldn't even explain why he almost couldn't stop himself from doing so – nor why fixing his partner's already-perfect tie felt like the one thing he absolutely, positively needed to be doing at that particular moment.

He remembered how he used to do the clasps on Rachel's necklaces, and then would turn her around to make sure the pendant was turned face-out and perfectly centered. As he recalled, her face typically wore the same "are you done yet?" expression that was reflected on Steve's face now as he fiddled.

After futzing and fluffing as much as he could reasonably expect Steve to endure, Danny released him with a pat on the shoulder. Both again quickly glanced around before mentally regrouping. Each of them turned away, rubbing their hands together in near unison; neither could remember who had picked up the habit from whom.

Danny was about to pick up where he'd left off – rehearsing – when a memory of Steve's voice echoed in his head. _No one wears a tie in Hawaii._ The last time he could recall seeing Steve in a tie was when he had literally carried off Catherine for a romantic interlude. Danny had always thought that ties and suits were signs of authority and respect. But seeing Steve in that particular tuxedo had changed his mind. For the first time, he knew why men in tuxedos – who usually looked elegant and debonair to him – were called penguins.

Though in times past Steve had looked more like a candidate for MI-6, that day at Kamekona's, he had looked like a penguin. The tux seemed to be half a size too small, and he looked like he was trying too hard. He hadn't realized Steve could look so stiff, so un-McGarrett like. Danny had almost expected Steve to start flapping his wings and dancing to Stevie Wonder. Grace had loved _Happy Feet,_ so Danny inevitably thought of Grace when he thought of penguins. Come to think of it, he inevitably thought of Grace. But now, when he actually should be focused on Grace, he instead noticed that Steve looked comfortable in his dress blues; he looked like the McGarrett Danny knew and lov— well, the McGarrett he knew. In spite of the suit and tie. And even while looking elegant and authoritative, not his usual rough and tumble, ass-kicking self.

"I thought nobody wore a tie in Hawaii," Danny mustered, trying to lighten the moment.

"No, they don't," Steve confirmed. "But it's a special day, so I thought I'd wear one." Danny waited for the snide remarks that typically followed, but seeing that Steve showed no hint of teasing, he nodded his appreciation.

When Danny remained silent, Steve continued. "Course I'm wearing my dress blues and they'd make me walk the plank if I don't wear a tie with the dress blues…"

Danny's eyes stopped on the dark shoulder that faced him. "How come the blues are black?" he asked without thinking.

"I know they're black. I don't know why they call them blues."

Danny looked away and took a deep breath. _For Chrissakes. Who the hell cares why they're black? Breathe. Think Grace. Focus._ He turned his attention back to the day's priority. "Thank you very much for being here. It means a lot. Okay?"

Steve nodded, his concern evident in his eyes, "You're welcome. You'd do the same for me." Danny nodded.

"All right," Steve added. "You ready?"

"Yeah, I'm good," Danny replied, feeling nothing that resembled good. He patted his pocket, confirming his notes were still safe and sound. "I've got my speech all prepared…"

Steve nodded in agreement, having heard Danny rehearsing his statement in the car for weeks.

"I'll tell you something," Danny added. "If they take her away from me, I'm jumping off a cliff. _Today."_

"Hey, hey, hey," Steve said. "That's not going to happen. Okay?" He hoped he sounded more confident than he felt. Even though he had no doubt what a great father Danny was, he wasn't sure a judge – who couldn't possibly know Danny as well as he did – would be able to see past the badge and the attitude.

Steve knew it would be an uphill fight. Danny kept unpredictable hours, held a dangerous job, and didn't exactly look like someone ready to bond with a tweener girl. Rachel and Stan, on the other hand, offered a conventional, affluent, perfectly respectable, two-parent nuclear family – not to mention a Kahala homestead filled with pink teddy bears, tea sets, contemporary art, fresh floral arrangements, jacquard upholstery, and Sub-Zero appliances. Steve was frankly relieved that Danny had finally had the good sense to find himself a respectable apartment – despite overpaying for the privilege – before the court-ordered observation sessions had started.

If only they could convince the court to see past the smart-alecky, tough-guy façade. Steve knew that the hearing would be a stressful and inappropriate place for the child in question, but a part of him wished that Grace could be there, because he knew that it was almost impossible to watch Danny and Grace together, and not recognize the special bond they shared.

"Mm hm, okay." Danny replied, nodding noncommittally.

"That's not going to happen, all right?" Steve persisted.

"All right," Danny managed. He turned his attention back to his hands, his thoughts focused on the unthinkable: _What if the judge rules for Rachel? What if I lose Grace? What if I have to move to fucking Las Vegas?  
_

Steve remembered the night he was told his mother had died. He had relived that anguish every day and every night for years until his anger at the anonymous drunk driver surpassed the sentimental memories which faded with time. He would never wish that pain upon anyone else, and knew that Danny would feel just as angry and just as powerless if today's verdict were to go the wrong way. Losing a child couldn't be any easier than losing a parent.

He put a reassuring hand on Danny's shoulder, wishing he could wave a magic wand to guarantee Grace's continued presence on the island.

They sat in silence until Danny's lawyer, Martin Akina, approached and let them know they could enter whenever they were ready.

"Why don't you go ahead?" Danny suggested. "We'll catch up." Steve recognized the underlying hint and understood that Danny wanted some time to talk in private.

Steve entered the courtroom and sat down quietly in the gallery. He was grateful Five-0 had no cases needing their immediate attention so Danny could focus on what was really important. Steve was actually looking forward to spending a quiet, drama-free day in the office.

Steve checked his watch and turned his head every minute or so to see if Danny had made his way in yet, finally breathing a sigh of relief as Danny and Martin entered and took seats in the front row to await their case.

Danny's case was the third on the docket. The eighty minutes it took to hear the first two felt like an eternity. Each time the court room doors opened, Danny looked up, expecting to see Rachel and Stan at any time. Steve recognized the expectant scowl on Danny's face, and worried as Danny's facial expression and body language became increasingly agitated each time the doors open and shut again without Rachel's arrival.

Finally, the bailiff announced Danny's case and he and Martin made their way to the bar table. The table on the other side of the courtroom sat conspicuously devoid of Danny's ex and her husband.

Judge Karen Hidoko rapped her gavel and asked, "In the matter of Williams vs Edwards, where are we?"

Martin replied on Danny's behalf, "Your Honor, my client has prepared a statement he'd like to read into the record."

The judge replied without emotion, "Go ahead."

_You got this one, Danno,_ Steve thought. _Knock it out of the park, bro, so we can blow this popsicle joint._

Steve knew Danny hated public speaking and swallowed anxiously as he watched Danny nervously stand up, pulling his jacket down.

Danny glanced at his attorney for reassurance before taking his place behind the lectern. He cleared his throat and fumbled with his jacket buttons. Steve's brow furrowed: _Danny shouldn't be this nervous. Where is the confident, cocky, snark-a-minute Detective Williams I know? Where is the I-never-met-a-perp-I couldn't-stare-down partner I rely on every day? Where is the 'I know I love Grace Williams more than any other person on this planet' Danno? Come on, Danny. Bring it._

Danny removed his speech from his pocket and uncrumpled it. "Your Honor," he began. "I, uh, come before you today….uh…." He looked at the words on his paper: _Rachel, we may have had our differences, but we did one thing very right together…_

Except there was no Rachel in the courtroom. Danny desperately tried to remember the speech he'd been rehearsing for the last few weeks – in the shower, in the car, at dinner, in every free moment – but his mind had gone blank. He wished he hadn't left his notecards strewn across the living room floor. He paused and sighed deeply.

_What the hell are you doing,_ _Danno? I know how much you've prepared. You know exactly what you want to say._ Steve willed Danny to hear his thoughts. _Forget the damned speech, if you need to, Danny. Just say what's in your heart._

"Um, I'm sorry," Danny muttered. "Can I start over?" He looked uncertainly at the judge, who raised an eyebrow but nodded her assent.

"Uh, Your Honor, I, uh, come…." Danny began again before stopping himself and muttering, "That sucks." Steve watched in horror as Danny crumpled his speech and tossed it across the room. _What the hell_ was _that? Where were the notecards you've been using? What the hell are you doing?_

"Detective Williams," Judge Hidoko demanded, "Why are you littering my court?"

_Not good,_ thought Steve.

"I apologize. I really apologize, your Honor. But…um, I was prepared to give my speech to Rachel, my ex, but she's – she's not here."

_Screw her,_ Steve thought. _Danny is killing himself trying to hang on to Grace and she sends her goddamned attack-dog attorney to speak on her behalf? What the fuck? And what the fuck are you doing, Danny? You_ never _change the plan at the last minute. Why the hell didn't you ask me before pulling this stupid-ass stunt? You rehearsed that statement for weeks. Hell,_ I _could probably deliver it from memory – and it's not even my daughter at stake here. Shit._

"Weren't you told that your statement should be addressed to the court?" asked the judge. Martin held his head in his hands.

"Yes, I was. I was," Danny admitted, glancing sheepishly at Martin. "But, I know how busy a Family Court judge can be, presiding over cases much bigger and more serious than mine. So, I thought that I would appeal directly to Rachel." Danny pointed hopelessly to her empty seat.

"Go on," she allowed.

_Okay, she didn't shut him down. That's a good sign…I guess,_ thought Steve.

Danny began nervously. "Um…Okay, look, I had a pretty good life in New Jersey, and then I, uh, I came here. And…"

_Oh, no. Danny,_ Steve thought. _Where are you going with this? Think about what you're saying._

"…it wasn't exactly a fit," Danny continued. "The sun, sand…" Danny awkwardly pointed skyward and then to his toes. Steve recalled that Danny burnt like an overcooked marshmallow in his first few months in Hawaii, and to the day still hated the feeling of sand in his socks. Of course, that was mainly because he still stubbornly refused to adopt the island custom of ditching socks altogether.

"…I mean I can't even get a decent slice of pizza."

Steve looked away. _Don't go there, Danno._

"Get to your point, Detective Williams," cautioned Judge Hidoko.

"Okay," Danny admitted. "I hate this place."

_Shit. You went there._

"Uh, I apologize, but I do. But I was willing to put up with it because _this_ is where my daughter is."

_Thank you,_ Steve thought. _Finally._ That's _what you need to be saying._

"…But now her mother wants to move again. And I can't go through with that. Not to Vegas. Not to anywhere, because _this_ is my home. This is _our_ home. Your Honor, that little girl is, is my everything."

Steve clung on every word, letting out a little breath which each syllable as Danny hit his stride.

"…She is my life, she is my breath. And it may just be the two of us, but we are a family. And separating us by 2,754 miles of water is _not…_ something this court should allow."

Danny finally allowed himself to pause and Steve caught his breath.

_Attaboy, Danno._ Steve shifted his glance anxiously to see if the judge was buying into Danny's heartfelt plea. _C'mon Hidoko. Give the guy a break. He may sound like a Hallmark greeting card, but he means every word of it – that little girl really is his everything. He would give up everything for her._

"Detective," Judge Hidoko prompted, "Weren't you recently shot in the presence of your daughter?"

_Shit,_ thought Steve. Unfortunately, his phone decided that very moment to begin buzzing audibly from his pocket. _Double shit._ Danny looked over his shoulder and gave Steve a death glare, silently conveying, _That better not be you, Steven.  
_

Steve knew Danny did not organize his thoughts well when interrupted, and the insistent and remarkably loud buzzing coming from his pocket was unquestionably going to compromise Danny's ability to come up with a coherent reply.

Steve raised his hand awkwardly and stood up, like a kid in class. At the same time, he took his phone out of his pocket wishing to high heaven that the caller would just hang up. "Uh, I can explain that, Your Honor," he said.

"Commander McGarrett," the judge scolded. "This is not your forum."

_What the hell are you doing?_ Danny glared at Steve, hoping he would get the nonverbal message. _You know that supporters aren't allowed to speak. And turn off the damned phone!_

"Yes, I know that, Your Honor," Steve said, hoping he sounded contrite. "And, I'm sorry. But Detective Williams doesn't just work for me, he's my friend." _That didn't sound very convincing._ Steve searched for a better alternative. "He's my _close_ friend and uh…"

Steve paused to search for his next words as the buzzing continued, seemingly louder with each ring. He made the mistake of looking down to see the caller identified as Governor Denning. _Shit, Denning's gonna serve my ass on a platter if I don't pick up, but I can't leave Danny dangling here._

Steve collected his thoughts: "I've seen him with his daughter. He's a great father." Danny allowed a brief and somewhat bewildered smile to cross his face. Steve paused. "He's actually the kind of father we all wish we had." Steve had reminded him of that fact several times, so Danny only hoped it had come across as sincere…and compelling.

But as he allowed himself to glance at the judge's reaction, Steve's phone continued to buzz.

"I'm so sorry," Steve apologized, directing his words to the court. The judge looked outraged, staring daggers at him while sternly, but silently, motioning to the court officers to take action.

Steve's eyes looked at Danny and pleaded as he made his way out into the aisle. _Forgive me._ "I _have_ to take this call."

Steve grabbed his cap off his chair and headed out of the courtroom at a brisk trot, knowing that ignoring a call from the Governor's direct line was administrative suicide. _Shit. I can't believe I'm ditching Danny with this cluster-fuck._

As the doors closed behind him, he turned his attention to the phone and answered, "Yes, Governor." He listened to the governor's directive and replied, "Yes sir, I understand." He mentally calculated how long it would take to dump the monkey suit and get from the courthouse to the state house. "All right, I'll be right there. I'll be there in ten minutes."

"Make it five," came Denning's reply before he abruptly hung up.

Steve sprinted out to his truck, stripping out of his jacket and tie on the way. He threw open the door and tossed them onto the passenger seat along with his cap. Then he reached behind the driver's seat and pulled out a pair of cargo pants, a T-shirt, and his combat boots. He started to remove his shirt but stopped midway through the buttons. While he generally never thought twice about changing in public, the last thing Danny needed to hear was that his partner had been cited for stripping down to his skivvies in the courthouse parking lot during his custody hearing. After a cursory glance at his surroundings confirmed that the coast was clear, Steve ducked out of range of the parking lot surveillance cameras, doffed the shirt and dress pants, and fought his way into his work clothes.

He covered the short distance to the state house, driving as fast as he thought he could get away with, given no apparent emergency to claim as an excuse – at least as evidenced by the lack of sirens, black and whites, and other out-of-the-ordinary traffic en route.

_Focus, focus, focus_. He'd been trained to complete his mission while ignoring all forms of distractions _–_ from psychological head games, to mortar shells, to 30' swells and gale-force winds. But somehow, what all his Navy SEAL training had not prepared him for was how hard it would be to blot out Danny's quiet, 100%-rant-free voice _–_ _If they take her away from me, I'm jumping off a cliff –_ along with the niggling fear that his own contribution to Danny's case had only made things that much worse…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ask me how many times I watched the scene in the courthouse hallway. No, never mind, don't ask me (I don't think I can count that high). But ask me how much I actually loved the way the scene played out and I'll be happy to respond. Given the heavily loaded material ("I wore it for you", the tie which had absolutely nothing wrong with it, etc) they could easily have played it campier, with meaningful glances, or "did he or didn't he" winks and nudges. But they played it majorly straight – and that's actually what caught my attention. That is, these boys don't need the meaningful glances and innuendo because they've already skipped past that phase and are already "there." They really are an old married couple.
> 
> And yeah, I know Steve looked pretty yummy in a tux at the Governor's benefit in Season 2, but somehow he looked really awkward (hard to even imagine that a burlap sack could make AOL look awkward) at the end of the ep with the James Bond/"me Tarzan" moment. JMO. My Danny just happens to share that opinion – after all, he did call it a rental! YMMV.


	3. I Know What You're Trying to Do (Five-0 Headquarters)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've seen the episode, then part of what you'll read here may seem like a major error in continuity or in understanding of the episode, but bear with me, and I'll explain at the end of the chapter. Major, major episode and fic spoilers in the author's notes at the end of this chapter, so DO NOT read if you don't want to be spoiled.

  
***** I Know What You're Trying to Do (Five-0 Headquarters) ***  
**

Danny had parked at the courthouse earlier in the morning allowing him to make his way from the car into the courtroom without breaking a sweat, despite the dark suit and unseasonably warm mid-80-degree heat. As a result, though, at the end of the hearing, he was stuck driving the few blocks between the courthouse and Five-0 headquarters in order to have his car at the ready later in the day. He draped his jacket on the back of the driver's seat and angrily tugged at the knot on his tie. He was about to strip it off, but stopped short of untying it wholly, feeling stubbornly defiant.

Despite the short distance, the drive took nearly 10 minutes, interrupted by bus-loads of floral-shirt wearing tourists blocking seemingly every intersection en route. Even with both air-con and Springsteen turned up full blast for the duration, he was still kicking himself and cursing at Steve when he pulled into the parking lot at work.

Ignoring friendly greetings from building security, Danny made a beeline for his office. He fell heavily into his chair, leaned back, kicked his feet onto his desk, and closed his eyes, rubbing his forehead with his hand.

_What the hell just happened?_ His mind tried desperately to sort through the exhausting emotion to replay the last hour of his life, and to rationally assess just where things stood. _Did it really go as badly as it feels like it did?_

Danny had watched Steve leave the courtroom, not sure if he was more stunned by the stupid ringing phone, his brazen partner's comments, the manner in which said comments were delivered, or by his abrupt departure. _What the hell was_ that?

Judge Hidoko had waved off the court officers who had made their way to the back entrance after Steve's exit, ready to follow in pursuit. She had already raised her gavel to have Steve's phone confiscated, but his hasty retreat quickly rendered her actions unnecessary. "Officer, make sure that door is completely shut," she commanded with annoyance. "We don't need any more unexpected interruptions."

Danny was still trying to figure out what steam engine had just barreled through the courtroom when she once again turned her steely eye to face him.

"Detective Williams," she demanded, "Is this how you planned to demonstrate your suitability to retain joint custody of your daughter?"

Danny squirmed. "Your Honor, I…"

"Don't interrupt me," she cautioned. "You show up, unprepared. You litter my courtroom. And your commanding officer, _close_ friend, or whatever he is, has the audacity to answer his cell phone _in my court_ , speaks out of line, and then leaves without recognition from the bench?"

Danny waited to see if she was done.

"Well?" she looked at him expectantly.

Danny sighed resignedly and attempted to collect his thoughts. He looked to Martin, who simply shrugged and nodded to him to do his best.

"Your Honor, I…" he began, "I don't know what to say except I'm sorry. I've spent the last eight months – every single minute of every single day since Rachel dropped the bomb that she and Stan wanted to move – dreading today. And I know how this must look, but…" He reached out with his left arm, searching for how to explain the last few minutes that he couldn't fully explain himself.

He began pacing in the cramped space by the lectern – two steps this way, two steps back; his arms gesticulated more urgently. "Your Honor, I've had a statement prepared for weeks now, one that I've been practicing to make perfect. But to be honest, this morning, I tossed my notes across the room. I thought about losing Grace and I, uh, panicked. I thought about what it would be like to wake up knowing that Grace is off living in the land of backroom poker games and prostitution…." Martin gently touched Danny's hand to remind him to stick to the point and avoid hyperbole.

"I thought about Grace moving to Las Vegas, without her friends, without me, and how wrong that would be – for _her._ So I wanted to make things better for her, you see? And God help me, I would follow her to the ends of the earth, but I shouldn't have to do so. Not when her home is here. So, I wanted to convince not just you, but Rachel, not to let it happen. But I guess that didn't work out so well, did it?" Danny smiled woefully to himself.

"Your point, Detective Williams?" Judge Hidoko warned

"Yes, Your Honor," Danny replied. "As for McGarrett – uh, Commander McGarrett – I know he, uh, Commander McGarrett didn't mean to disturb your court. And I _know_ it's hard to believe, but I'm _sure_ he had a good reason for answering his phone and speaking out of order." Danny looked up to see Judge Hidoko raise a skeptical eyebrow. Danny smiled an ironic smile in spite of himself. "Yeah, I guess you've probably heard that one before, huh? Who hasn't? I mean, it's like a perp saying 'I didn't do it.' Or Gracie saying, 'The dog ate my homework.' Or —"

"Danny!" Martin whispered curtly.

"So, right. Yeah," Danny tried to get his head around where Steve had come from. "When I first met Commander McGarrett, I couldn't stand him, either." It was Martin's turn to roll his eyes. "But today, I know that he didn't mean any disrespect. He's a shoot-first, ask-questions-later kind of guy. He assesses a situation and he takes action. This morning, he felt an intervention was needed, so he took his best shot. He does that." Danny shrugged apologetically. "But he did that because he's been listening to me talk his ear off for the last two years about how much Grace matters to me – how much _today_ matters to me. So I'm sorry he was out of line. I'm sure _he's_ sorry he was out of line. We're sorry, Your Honor."

"Anything else?" asked Judge Hidoko, wearily – at this rate, she was beginning to feel it was going to be a long day.

Danny paused, trying to remember what else he wanted to say, but his mind had gone blank.

"Her question!" Martin whispered.

"What?" Danny turned towards Martin in confusion. "Question?"

"The shooting," Martin reminded in another hushed whisper.

"Oh, yeah, right." Danny replied. He stood up and cleared his throat, taking a few moments to gather his thoughts. "About getting shot. Yeah. You asked about my getting shot in Grace's presence.

"Your Honor, when I got shot, I was on a camping trip with Grace's Aloha Girls troop. Grace loves her friends in Aloha Girls and she really wanted me to spend some time with them. They're learning about survival, first aid, camping, and all sorts of great things...and I'd bet you anything that there aren't any Aloha Girls in Vegas. Just call girls, and go-go girls, and lap dance girls, and…"

Martin watched the judge roll her eyes, and tried to clear his throat unobtrusively.

"Anyways, anyone who knows me will tell you I _despise_ camping. Probably even more than I hate the beach. But since Grace asked me to go, I went," Danny continued. "Your Honor, I'm not sure how much you read in the papers about what happened, but the guy who shot me was a thief who'd crash-landed his plane and lost a significant heist of diamonds in the forest near where we were camping. So, obviously, on top of being a criminal, he was obviously an incompetent one."

Martin coughed again.

"Meanwhile," Danny went on, "This guy's heavily armed accomplice was hot on his tail. They were trying to retrieve the stolen diamonds and wouldn't have hesitated to kill _anyone_ in their way. So, yes, I got shot. But so did some other poor schmo who happened to be out for a hike that day. I didn't get shot because of who I am or what I do. I got shot because I happened to be a dad on an outing with his daughter who was in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Danny paused for a moment, then corrected himself. "Well, actually, I take that back. I was in _exactly_ the right place at the _right_ time – because I was with Grace and I could protect her, and her friends. That's what I've been trained for. Protecting people. If Commander McGarrett and I _hadn't_ been there, the collateral damage could have been whole a lot worse." Danny paused to catch his breath. All he could see was the top of Judge Hidoko's head, as she was intently taking notes. She briefly frowned quizzically to herself at the mention of Commander McGarrett, trying to remember what the papers had said about his presence at the scene, but her head remained down while she continued to write.

Seeing her nod occasionally as she wrote, Danny took that as a sign of encouragement and added, "Your Honor, I'm sorry I'm taking up so much time, but if I could just have a couple more minutes, I promise I'll get out of your hair."

The judge nodded her assent.

"I'm not gonna lie to you and tell you I have a perfectly safe, nine-to-five job. As I'm sure you know, Five-0 is tasked with investigating the most dangerous criminals in Hawaii. So yeah, my job can be dangerous. And yes, it makes me late sometimes and pre-occupied other times. But I do it because I know I'm good at it. I do it because by taking these guys off the street, I can help make this a safer place for Grace and all her friends to grow up in.

"Hell..I mean, heck, I could take the easy way out and get some paper-pushing desk job at HPD where I could go home at the stroke of five every evening. And I'd probably never come home with an injury worse than a paper cut. But that's not me. I can't change who I am or what I am. I'm a cop. But that also doesn't change how much I love my daughter. She gets that. And, I think," Danny smiled to himself. "I think she's even proud of me for what I do."

"I _will_ move to that godforsaken wasteland in the middle of the desert if I have to in order to keep her in my life. But she already has a life here that she loves; _we_ have a life here. So, Your Honor, if Grace stays here with me, I swear on my life, you will _not_ regret it. Not for a minute." Danny took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

Danny risked another glance up at the bench and found Judge Hidoko looking at him intently, though less sternly than before. She tilted her head, as if to ask if there was anything else.

"Um, so, uh. that's about it, I guess," Danny concluded. "Thank you, Your Honor."

Danny bowed his head quietly and inched his way back into the seat next to Martin. Rachel's attorney offered nothing to add to the record. Danny listened deafly as the judge delivered her final comments. When the case was finally adjourned, Martin shook Danny's hand and led him out to the foyer.

"Good recovery, there, Danny," he whispered encouragingly.

"I dunno," Danny replied.

"Well, it'll all be over soon," Martin said.

"That's what I'm afraid of," Danny replied.

"Look, Danny," Martin counseled, "I know you're focused on McGarrett and how your statement didn't go exactly as planned..."

"Hey!" Danny exclaimed. "I thought you were on my side. You wanna pour a little more salt on that wound?"

"What I was going to say, before you cut me off," Martin asserted, "is that things aren't as bad as they seem."

"What, you mean, they're worse?"

"Danny," Martin said more sternly. "Would you just shut up and listen to me for a minute? The judge is _not_ going to look kindly on Rachel's absence."

"At least _she_ couldn't make a fool of herself."

"No, she couldn't," Martin admitted, "but she also couldn't explain why it was in Grace's interests to be taken out of state and away from a custodial parent. The criteria for moving a child out of state are generally high and to not show up in court to defend yourself is like a slap in the judge's face. Not showing up is _not_ the mark of a good parent in the family court arena."

"Yeah, but Rachel's the mom, and she's married to Stan, who makes like a million times what I make," Danny fretted.

"Two X-chromosomes, a spouse, and a lot of money aren't all that the court takes into consideration, Danny," said Martin.

"I'll believe that when I see it," Danny said cynically.

"Well, Hidoko's known for being fair and impartial. She's also pretty good at delivering her verdicts in a timely manner," Martin said. "So since she said this afternoon or tomorrow, you should know by morning. I'll give you a call as soon as I hear something." Martin patted him reassuringly on the back. "Try not to worry. It's out of our hands now."

" _That's_ what I worry about," Danny said, shaking hands with the departing attorney. Danny sighed deeply and slumped back onto the long wooden bench in the hallway. He pulled out his phone: no messages, no explanation. _What the fuck?_

Danny hated waiting, and the thought of a full day – or more – of waiting for a verdict on the single issue that mattered most to him in the world was infuriating.

…almost infuriating as Steve's inopportune phone call and even more untimely departure. _God damn it. If he was only gonna be half there, why the hell did he even bother showing up?_

Forty-five minutes later, Danny was in his office, reliving the morning, play-by-play in his head. And he still hadn't heard from Steve.

Nothing he could imagine convinced him that something more urgent had come along…except for maybe Wo Fat. _God damn, that Wo Fat. I'll kill the son of a bitch myself if it's his fault the judge thinks Steve's a lunatic and I'm an unfit father._

A gentle knock sounded against his door and he looked up to see teammate Kono Kalakaua's concerned face peering in at him. She took his acknowledgement as encouragement to open the door. "Hey," she said.

Danny nodded, running his hand through his hair before crossing both arms around his head.

Kono's cousin and partner, Chin Ho Kelly, saw that Kono had broken the ice, and leaned in over her shoulder. "Hey, brah, how'd it go?" he asked.

"It sucked," Danny replied. "I sucked."

Kono and Chin exchanged concerned glances.

"Aw, c'mon," Kono chided. "It couldn't have been that bad." Danny looked up and scowled his disagreement.

"One of the court secretaries texted me this photo of Steve," she said. She held up her cell phone for him to see and gave him a big cheesy smile, hoping that some silliness would cheer him up. "She said he could have sweet-talked King Kong into giving up Fay Wray."

Chin laughed a little louder than necessary and Danny frowned in response. "Pardon me if McGarrett in uniform didn't make me go weak in the knees." _That didn't come out right_ , he thought. "I'm a little pre-occupied with Grace, you know? And after I stank up the house with a _Bad Speeches for Dummies_ case study, our buddy McGarrett _whips out his_ _phone_ for a chat, does a shout out in court and then dances off to meet Wo Fat at the malt shop for a milkshake."

"Danny, you're not making any sense," Kono said.

"Steve got a call about Wo Fat?" Chin asked.

"I dunno. He didn't bother to tell me. Who am I? Just his partner," Danny complained. "So, yeah. He's out there out all by his lonesome. Just Rambo McGarrett against the world."

"It can't be Wo Fat," Kono argued. "We haven't been put on alert. Steve hasn't even been in yet this morning."

"But if he ran out on your court case," Chin reasoned, "it must have been important. I wonder why haven't we heard anything yet?"

Danny shrugged melodramatically.

As if on cue, Steve stopped behind Kono and Chin in the hallway.

"Hey, guys," he said, "Sorry I'm late." He peered over Chin's shoulder and tried to catch Danny's eye.

"Hey, Danno." He looked at Chin and Kono and asked, "Can we have a minute, guys?"

Chin shot Steve a you've-got-some-'splainin'-to-do look, while Kono's eyes wished him "good luck." They both smiled reassuringly at Danny and made themselves scarce.

Steve took two steps into Danny's office and let the door close behind him.

_He's back in a T-shirt and cargos. Bastard doesn't have time to explain why he runs out during my hearing, but he has time to change outfits?_

Steve caught Danny's eyes as they darted from his chest to his legs, and he immediately ascertained the latest cause of the pissy look on Danny's face.

"Look, I'm sorry," Steve said.

"I know," Danny said. "Duty calls, right?"

"Yeah, duty called," Steve confirmed, matter-of-factly.

"So why aren't Kono and Chin working the case already?" Danny prodded. "Why am I sitting here waiting for your sorry ass to waltz in to give us the sit rep?"

"I had to make a stop on the way here," Steve replied.

"I can tell, Malibu Ken," Danny said, rolling his eyes. "You have fun at Barbie's Dream House on the way?"

"For your information, I had to stop at the _State House_ on my way here," Steve explained.

"The State House? I can see you got dressed up for the occasion," Danny said sarcastically. "What's up?"

"It was Denning," Steve explained.

"Something happen to the governor?" Danny asked. He sat up a little straighter, a little more alert, his police instincts kicking in.

"No, no, that's not it," Steve said. "Governor's fine. He was the one who called." Steve noticed the knot still hanging loosely at the top of Danny's tie. _Shit. He's already given up and started thinking like a mainlander again._

Danny noticed Steve frowning at his tie. "Would you just quit it with the fucking 'no one wears a tie in Hawaii' shtick? That's getting a little old." Danny angrily grabbed the knot and pulled the ends free, leaving the ends dangling. His facial expression conveyed a clear "happy now?" message.

"I'll quit it when you quit it," Steve retorted.

"Quit _what_?" Danny demanded.

"Quit pretending that you're annoyed because we're having a fashion disagreement and admit your real problem?"

"My real problem? And what exactly would that happen to be, oh, great, all-knowing McGarrett?"

"That you're pissed at me for running out of your hearing," Steve replied.

Danny swallowed hard. "What? You need to hear me say it out loud? Now you're Dr. Phil all of a sudden?"

"Oh, come on, Danny," Steve said. "Just man up and admit it." After two years with Danny riding shotgun, he had easily surmised (correctly, as it turns out, even though he had missed Danny's later in-court confession to that effect) that Danny had been beating himself up all morning – first, for not being suitably prepared for his hearing, and again for making things worse by trying to make them better.

Steve knew that Danny never backed down – even when cornered or facing seemingly insurmountable odds. Steve had admired that resolve from their first meeting, when Danny had steadfastly refused to say "Uncle" as they stared each other down in Steve's garage. Steve was even more impressed when Danny had the balls to sucker-punch him after Steve pinned him in a heated disagreement. It was that fighting spirit that inevitably fueled Danny's daily rants – which had become so commonplace (and occasionally ludicrous), that Steve found he actually missed them when the occasional day slipped by rant-free.

But today, Danny, who was used to pounding the pavement and fighting for what he believed in, had no one left to fight, other than his own demons. So Steve continued to block Danny's doorway, arms crossed, defiantly daring Danny to push back.

"Okay, I'll bite," Danny conceded. "Yeah, I'm pissed. You bet your _ass_ I'm pissed." Danny's hands started to gesticulate, karate-chopping his verbal bullet points. "I'm pissed that you left the hearing. I'm pissed you opened your big fat mouth, even though you _know_ that you're not supposed to speak from the gallery. All you had to do was sit there and look respectable. But that was obviously too difficult an assignment for you, huh? Do you need me to write it down for you next time?"

Steve leaned back against the doorway with his arms crossed...and hoped he looked suitably repentant.

"And I'm pissed you took a call _during my hearing_. What kind of person does that? In _civilized society,_ people turn their phones off when they go to church. People turn their phones off when they get on a plane —"

"Nobody turns their phone off when they get on a plane," Steve muttered in spite of himself. Danny ignored him and continued without missing a beat.

"People turn their phone off when they go to the movies, or a play, or the opera." Danny feigning dramatic surprise, "And, oh yeah! They turn them off before going to court support their…" He searched for the right word. _Just what the hell are we?_ Steve had called them "close friends _."_ Before Danny could stop himself, Grace's description of Danno's relationship with Uncle Steve popped out: "…BFFs."

"Did you just call me your BFF?"

Danny threw his hands up and retorted, "What? Do I need to spell it out for you?"

Steve screwed his face up into the tightest frown he could muster, in part to keep himself from laughing out loud, which he knew would have disastrous implications. "I know what it stands for. It's just kind of …."

"Kind of _what?_ " Danny challenged.

Steve searched carefully for his next words, "Kind of…."

"Kind of like a term that, oh, I dunno, my ten-year-old, light-of-my-life, soon-to-be-moving-to-Las-Vegas _daughter_ would use?"

Steve couldn't think of any possible reply that wouldn't get him into even deeper hot water, so he settled for asking, "Done yet?"

"I'm just getting started," Danny barked. "Since you ask, I'm pissed that we have some case that was so important that you ran out of my hearing, yet you show up nearly an hour later and no one else on your _team_ knows what the hell is going on. I mean, it's so damned important, you stopped for a costume change, right? Did you have your nails done while you were at it? Maybe a little hot stone massage?"

Steve leaned back and crossed his arms and asked warily, "Is there more?"

"Hell yeah, there's more!" Danny replied, on a roll. He raised his hands to enumerate his next point. "I'm also pissed at you because…" He stopped, hands still in mid-air. "Because…oh, fuck it. I can't think of anything else right now. But I'm sure there must be something else." He dropped his hands back to his hips.

"Feel better?" Steve asked.

"No, I do _not_ feel better," Danny shot back, but then softened his tone to add, "Just because you let me yell at you like a raving idiot does not make me feel better. Not today." Danny stopped himself before he continued. "But, uh, I know what you're trying to do, and, um, thanks."

"Hey, I'm sorry things didn't go as planned," Steve said softly. "I know how much this means to you. I was just trying to help."

Danny sighed. _Okay, he's sorry. Now what?_ He looked up at Steve, unsure what to say next.

"Look," tried Steve. "I take it that since you are neither jumping for joy, nor sinking in the Pacific with Winnie, that you don't have a verdict yet?"

Danny nodded. "Martin says tomorrow morning, probably, maybe later today."

"Well, you don't need to deal with this work crap today. You wanna take the day off?" Steve offered.

Danny was not expecting to be relieved of duty and it took him a minute to process Steve's suggestion. "Day off?" Danny asked, "As in, sit at home and think about nothing but how miserable my life will be if Grace gets carted off to Vegas?"

Steve shrugged, helplessly.

"No thank you," Danny concluded. "I've been doing my job every day, no matter what's going on in my personal life, and today's not going to be any different. So bring it on." Danny stood up to get ready to go; he grabbed his weapon from his drawer, tucking it into his holster.

Steve still stood in his doorway, concern etched on his face.

"You sure you're up to it, buddy?" Steve asked.

"Don't 'buddy' me," Danny scowled. "I'll be fine. I'm not gonna drive over a cliff mid-case, if that's what you're worried about."

"Better not, I'll be in the car with you," Steve deadpanned. "In fact, maybe I'd better drive today."

"Yeah, yeah, so what else is new?" Danny replied, making his way around his desk to the door. "You can drive, but you're not off the hook. I am still pissed."

"Yeah, so what else is new?" Steve echoed.

Danny ignored him and continued, quietly, "I'm pissed, but I, uh, I _know_ you were trying to help, in your bizarre, McGarrett way, and I appreciate it."

Steve nodded, smiling grimly back. "Come on then," he said, "We've got work to do."

Danny forced himself to put aside his personal concerns as he always did when on the job. "So you had to make a personal visit to the State House, huh?" he noted, "So what's the deal with Denning?"

"He got an anonymous tip about the death of a woman in Kahala that he wants Five-0 to look into."

"No Wo Fat?" Danny asked, surprised.

"Not this time," Steve replied.

"You're sure it's not Wo Fat?" Danny asked, not sure if he was more grateful that it wasn't Wo Fat, or more annoyed that it was some routine, run-of-the-mill case that had pulled Steve away.

"What's with you and Wo Fat all of a sudden?" Steve asked.

"What's with me? What's with _you_? It's _always_ Wo Fat with you," Danny replied. "He's like the Doofenshmirtz to your Perry."

"He's the _who_ to my _what?"_ Steve asked.

" _Phineas and Ferb,"_ Danny replied.

Steve scrunched up his face and requested, "English, please."

"It's a Disney show," Danny explained. "Grace likes it. Doofenshmirtz is the evil villain who's always trying to take over the world, well, at least the Tri-State area. Only he's a little more incompetent than Wo Fat, and less of a sociopath, 'cause, you know, it's a Disney show. And Perry is…well, he's a platypus."

Steve held his arms out and shook his head in disbelief, silently asking, _What the fuck are you talking about?_

"Every episode, Agent P – Perry, the Platypus, that is – foils Doofenshmirtz's plan, but somehow he's always back the next episode. And it's always Perry's job to stop his evil plans. You see? You? Perry. Wo Fat? Doofenshmirtz."

Steve shook his head again and decided he would just let it drop. "Walk with me, will ya?" They made their way down the hallway towards the exit to Five-0's offices. Steve knocked on Kono's window and then Chin's, signaling for them to meet in the Ops room in five. Steve pushed through the double doors and down to the security checkpoint, and signed for a manila folder. Steve looked inside, pulled out a flash disk, and then tossed it back in, confirming it contained what he expected.

"A memory stick?" Danny asked. "What, the State of Hawaii email system down again?"

"No, Denning doesn't want his staff to have access to these files, so he didn't want to send them by email."

"Oh, okay," Danny said sarcastically, "that's not suspicious."

Steve began giving Danny the basic background as they made their way back down the hall. "An unidentified woman was found dead, in her underwear with severe bruising around her neck."

"A Jane Doe homicide?" Danny asked. "Why isn't HPD working it?"

"I asked that, too," Steve agreed, adding. "This particular woman was found in the bed of a friend of the governor's. And those homeowners are conveniently out of town on vacation."

Danny's "I smell a rat" alert began to sound more assertively. "So, hold on, let me get this straight, is this official business? Or a favor?"

"What difference does it make?" Steve asked.

"Well," Danny explained. "It makes a very big difference. You see, because official business is _official_. A favor is like a _quid pro quo_ kind of deal, right? Like, you solve this murder case for me and I will give you five days paid vacation, right? Or tickets to Monster Truck Jam, or whatever."

"Monster Truck Jam is not in town," Steve noted.

"Okay, so then it is, indeed, 'official' business," Danny concluded.

"Exactly."

They took a few more steps before Danny stopped and turned to face Steve. "Hold on. None of this seems strange to you? None of this seems the slightest bit off? I mean, what are these homeowners? Are they big contributors to his campaign or what?"

"I have no idea," Steve replied.

"And we can't talk to them?" Danny added, suspiciously.

Steve was getting weary of the third degree. "Danny, is there a point coming any time soon?"

"Absolutely!" Danny declared. "It seems to me like we're taking a case just to protect the governor's friends."

"We're the governor's task force," Steve rationalized.

"Then why does it feel like we're performing janitorial services? Blindfolded, I might add," said Danny.

"We've been given a directive, Danny," Steve argued.

"Oh right, I understand. McGarrett gets an order, he takes the order. You know what you're like? You're like one of those wind-up soldiers. I'm gonna get you a drum for Christmas to beat." Danny marched robotically and made drumming motions with a pair of imaginary drumsticks.

Steve stopped, looked Danny in the eye and glared. "The last time we butted heads with Denning he sent Lori home. I don't wanna see what he has planned for an encore. Do you?" He turned on his heels and continued on towards their destination.

Danny knew that Lori's departure had been hard on Steve. He sighed deeply, then took a few quick steps to catch up. "All I know is Denning asks you to drop everything to take on a routine murder case because it happens to involve his friends. No conflict of interest there, right? And you're all 'We've been given a directive, Danny'," Danny mocked Steve's intonation. "Meanwhile, _I_ ask you to come support me, to sit quietly and just be there for me, and you…Well, we all know how that turned out, right?" Danny stopped just outside Ops, folded his arms and glared.

Steve stopped, mid-stride and turned back to face Danny. "Hey, I was _there_ for you. I've always been there for you. _I_ told the judge what she needed to hear 'cause at the rate you were going, you were never gonna get there," Steve retorted, his voice resonating down the hall. "Hell, I wore a _tie_ for you!" Steve added, his irritated voice resonating down the hall. "Are you seriously questioning my..." Steve searched for the right word and settled on "...my loyalties?" He rose up to his full height, parked his hands on his hips and glared down at Danny.

Danny was about to snap back until he noticed two heads leaning back to get a view through the glass doors behind Steve's shoulder. Danny tilted his head slightly to motion towards Kono and Chin who couldn't avoid overhearing Steve's last outburst. Steve turned his head to see them before turning back to resume his death glare. Danny returned the stare, crossing his arms in matching defiance.

Kono and Chin, who had seen both men stopping to take notice of them, as well as the heavyweight stare-down that continued in the hallway, politely re-directed their attention to the images on the computer table – which at the moment, happened to be filled with the latest updates on the Manti T'eo catfish scandal.

Steve finally broke the silence. "Listen to me – I need to know. Are you seriously going to stay mad at me all day? 'Cause I need to know that you've got my back. I can't send you out there if we're not okay. So what's it gonna be? Are we okay, or not?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, I gotta say, based on where they cut the courtroom scene, if I were the judge I would not have been impressed with Steve (maybe she's a sucker for guys in uniform) and barely with Danny (Sorry. Danno. You know you had me at the pink bunny. What you said on-screen was great, but it wasn't enough for me.) Since she's done her research and knows that he was shot in front of Grace, she's probably also aware that Grace was exposed to gunfire at the Kukui High football game, and that Danny's been shot before, beaten up, and recently was a human bomb detonator. So I needed more – a lot more. And boy, would I have loved-loved-loved to see Scott Caan kill an even longer monologue.
> 
> Also, based on where the courtroom scene ended, if I were Danny, I would be freaking out and none too pleased with Steve, and TPTB completely let that drop during the episode in favor of the case-of-the-week. Phooey.
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me,
> 
> -LL
> 
> P.S. A big shout-out to miahbug here on for pointing out something I the original post of this chapter that I missed - that Rachel's absence would be a big strike against her. And since miahbug speaks from experience, I've stolen a few quotes direct from her review (with permission) and put them in the mouth of Danny's attorney.
> 
> *** MAJOR
> 
> EPISODE
> 
> & FIC
> 
> PLOT
> 
> SPOILER
> 
> CONTAINED
> 
> IN
> 
> NOTES
> 
> BELOW ***
> 
> About that continuity/viewing error. Yes, I know that the case is indeed about Wo Fat. I also know that they don't figure out that it's Wo Fat until the "big reveal" much later in the episode. But early on, I think that's exactly what Danny (knowing Steve) would suspect.
> 
> If I step back, as a viewer and a Danno fan, I'm really, really sorry they made Wo Fat the villain in this episode. I think it takes over the episode in a seriously bad way, pushing Danny's story to the fringes at the top and bottom of the episode. It also creates a huge conflict in how the episode epilogue plays out. Instead of Steve comforting Danny and telling him everything's going to be okay with Grace, it's Danny telling Steve everything's going to be okay and that they'll get Wo Fat. Yes, I get that there's a place for that conversation. I just wish it hadn't been this particular episode.
> 
> In contrast, I just (re)-watched the re-run of the episode with Malia's funeral. Even with a big-name guest star as the baddie, they gave Chin's character arc a LOT of air time, and they did it throughout the episode. The musical cues for Chin were consistent with his mood, and his friends and colleagues all demonstrated that they cared, so it felt more like Malia's death and the crime-of-the-week actually occurred in the same universe. The team still dealt with the baddies and rescued the victim, but without the extended heavy-duty action and chase scenes in Hana I Wa'Ia, they also had screen time available to do the funeral right, and to bookend the personal story with the lovely Danny/Chin scene at the end.


	4. I'm In (On the Job)

***** I'm In (On the Job) ***  
**

Danny stood in the hallway and glared back at Steve. Part of him would have been perfectly happy to stay mad for the rest of the day and beyond, if only because Steve had once again played by "McGarrett Rules" (though it still remained to be seen whether he got away with it this time).

Danny had lost track of the number of times McGarrett Rules had resulted in their being shot at, in collateral property damage, and in seemingly endless stacks of paperwork justifying excessive use of force – since apparently gubernatorial immunity did not include immunity from paperwork, especially under Denning's watch.

Whenever Grace broke the rules, Danny would remind her of the unpleasant consequences of her actions, and a meaty lecture would follow about learning from one's mistakes. Five-0's track record closing cases made things all the more infuriating as Steve's cavalier application of McGarrett Rules resulted far more frequently in success rather than "mistakes" and their accompanying learning moments.

One of these days, Danny was sure that Steve would have to pay for his reckless disregard for conventional rules of conduct. Perhaps one day, he would finally run into someone who simply would not play by McGarrett Rules. On most occasions, Danny hoped he would live long enough to say, "I told you so." But in this case, he hoped against hope that Judge Karen Hidoko would not be that _someone_ , and that today would not be _that day_.

Another part of him thought about staying mad simply because arguing with Steve was such a part of his fabric that it was much easier to deflect his anger towards the visible target standing in front of him, the one who happened to be willing to serve the much-needed role of needed whipping boy, and one who was also well able to defend himself when the need arose – than to turn his attention to the seemingly unending custody fight.

Steve, sensing that Danny was finally running out of steam, squinted almost imperceptibly. Alert to the subtle but familiar change in expression, Danny forced himself to remember what exactly Steve had said when he spoke out in court.

_He's my close_ _friend…I've seen him with is daughter. He's a great father. He's actually the kind of father we all wish we had._

Danny's expression softened. If he had to pick out four sentences to squeeze into Steve's unexpected courtroom performance, he would have been hard pressed to choose any better ones. Danny concluded – as he had frequently since the first time Steve had hauled his ass out of his crappy rental house into the pouring rain – that he just wasn't very good at staying mad at his partner.

"Yeah, we're okay," Danny finally said, uncrossing his arms. "And I'm in." He placed a hand on Steve's shoulder to confirm the truce and then made his way past him towards the smart table where Kono and Chin stood expectantly waiting.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Steve had relayed the governor's request and the team dispersed to begin their assignments. Chin identified the owners of the home where their vic had been found. Wendy and Patrick Dugan were indeed out of town, mid-way through an extended trek in Nepal and incommunicado – exactly as the governor had claimed. The Dugans' caretaker, who had the only other known keys to the house, had an airtight alibi, yet there were no signs of forced entry.

Kono, meanwhile, had been in contact with the few discreet HPD techs who had been dispatched to work the crime scene. She swept a driver's license up onto one of the main viewing screens and reported that the victim was a young woman named Serena Andrews, whose prints were in the system for a prior solicitation citation.

"Houston, we've got a problem," summarized Chin.

"So we have a working girl killed in a Kahala mansion belonging to 'good friends' of the governor," Kono observed.

As the case began coming to life, Danny's detective reflexes started to kick in. "Two questions," he suggested. "Did the governor know her? And did he know that she was a prostitute?"

"And if he did," Kono added, "is he involved?"

Danny had mixed feelings about his suspicions being vindicated. Though he rarely missed an opportunity to hold one over on Steve, in this case, he almost wished he were wrong about Denning's ulterior motives. Any complications with the governor's office would inevitably lead to headaches for Five-0. "You like where this is going?" he asked pointedly.

"No, I don't," Steve replied, wondering what exactly he'd gotten himself and his team into. He allowed himself only a moment of concern before mentally regrouping and reverting to his accustomed role as team leader. "All right, then," he began. "Kono, you've got an address on the vic. You and Chin head to her place and see what you can find out about her. Danny and I are heading to Kahala."

Steve and Danny drove mostly in silence. Both knew they had a job to do, so neither one wanted to bring up the morning's distractions; instead they each tried to focus on the facts of the case.

Even though he knew it was still far too early to expect a verdict, Danny couldn't help pulling out his phone several times _en route_ , confirming that the ringer was set to loud, and that there were no new message alerts. Each time, finding nothing new, he re-pocketed his phone, annoyed at himself for his impatience. Steve watched him with concern, realizing there was not much he could say.

A few minutes before arriving, Danny finally broke the silence. "So, we know nothing about the homeowners except that they're FOGs?"

"They're what?" Steve asked.

"F-O-Gs," Danny replied. "Friends of the Governor."

"Pretty much," Steve agreed. "Chin said that they've been significant contributors to the Party, but there are dozens of their type on the Island. Dugan runs an import/export business and seems to have kept his nose clean. So I'm not sure if these are run-of-the-mill friends or if there's more to it than that."

"So what happens if this 'friend's' house is just a convenient place for Denning to get a little action on the side?"

"Thought's crossed my mind," Steve admitted.

"Most of the importers on the Island deal with the Far East, so that means lots of extended trips out of town. So, if these are really 'good friends', maybe Denning's been using their place as a love nest," Danny reasoned. "If so, there must be some nosey neighbors who would recognize someone as high-profile as the governor coming and going."

"I wouldn't count on it. Homes are pretty secluded in this area. There are a lot of gated properties in this neighborhood and people pretty much mind their own business." Steve explained. "Unless he's stupid enough to be driving around in his state-issue car, I doubt any of the neighbors will have seen or heard anything."

He nodded up ahead in the distance where an SIS truck and two HPD cruisers were parked in front of a gated Mission style home. "Ready?" he asked, getting out of the car.

"I'm good," Danny replied, feeling better than he had all day Talking shop was making him feel more like himself, and taking his mind off his own troubles. He took one last quick peek at his phone before stuffing it back in his pocket and following Steve up the front walk.

Inside the mansion, Danny and Steve found the caretaker, Bobby Palea, sequestered in the living room. They tag-team grilled him about the Dugans' travel plans, any friends who knew those plans, and any possible relationship between his employers and the deceased. Palea couldn't recall any recent house guests who might have hung onto a spare key, and was personally responsible for letting in and supervising contractors while on premise.

Steve stayed downstairs to get an update from Charlie Fong while Danny made his way upstairs. Charlie's forensics team had finished processing the bedroom and were working their way through the rest of the house. They had confirmed no signs of forced entry, and no signs of unusual exit. The victim had been found on the bed of the main bedroom, but they had found no evidence of fluids on the sheets and were unable to definitively conclude whether the body had been moved.

However, there were signs that someone had been staying at the house. Though the trash cans had been emptied, there were still breakfast dishes in the sink.

Meanwhile, Danny had snapped on a pair of gloves and made his way around the bedroom upstairs. He was surprised to find men's toiletries and several apparently used, though neatly re-hung, towels in the bathroom. A number of men's dress shirts lay crumpled in a pile on the floor of the closet. A suit coat was draped across the back of a chair in the bedroom and a mostly empty suitcase lay open on the sweater chest at the end of the bed.

"You didn't say anything about someone staying here," Danny noted as Steve entered the bedroom.

Steve pulled out a pair of gloves of his own and surveyed the scene, coming to the same, unquestionable conclusion. He frowned and replied, "Denning conveniently left that part out of his briefing."

Steve and Danny poked through the pockets of the apparently visiting clothing and luggage. "This seem weird to you?" Danny asked. "No identifying info. Anywhere. No laptop, no briefcase, boarding passes, baggage tags, or credit card receipts. No trash even. Maybe a squatter?" He made a note to himself to have HPD check the trash cans and dumpsters nearby.

"Hmm," Steve noted, as he picked up the suit coat and inspected the label. "I don't think it's a squatter. These suits are custom-made."

"Custom-made? How would a guy who shops at the Army Surplus store in Pearl City know custom-made if it hit him over the head?" Danny asked.

Steve picked up the jacket, and stuck out the label for Danny to see. It read, "Harris & Sons, Bespoke Tailoring."

"Bespoke?" Danny asked.

"It's a British term," Steve said.

"Remember who you're talking to," Danny said wearily. ", with a weary expression that Steve instantly recognized. "Stan's got closet full of 'bespoke' stuff. Bespoke suits, bespoke shirts, bespoke ties, bespoke socks..."

"I think I get the picture," Steve said. "Who does all this crap belong to? If the governor's using this as a hideaway, he's not going to bring things to camp out for a week."

"I bet those suits go for a few G apiece, easy," Danny observed. "Fong say anything about Mr. Invisible?"

"Not really," Steve replied, continuing to work the bedroom. "He said they processed the room but found no obvious suspects. They're running all the prints found in the bedroom and on the luggage and they're checking the clothes, sheets, and loose hairs from the bathroom, to see if they can get some trace DNA."

"Well I've been going through our vic's things here," Danny said, pointing to a handbag and a pile of clothes, both lying on the floor next to the bed. "Money, credit cards, ID are all intact. The only item that seems to be missing is a cell phone."

"What kind of hooker doesn't have a cell phone?" Steve asked.

"A dead one, apparently," Danny quipped. "I mean, why take the phone and leave the bag? Why not take the whole bag?"

"Maybe she had some incriminating photos on it?" Steve asked. "What're you thinking?"

"Something doesn't seem right here," Danny speculated. Steve watched as Danny pored through Serena's handbag, then re-examined the mystery guest's clothes. Then he started circling the room again, pacing, muttering to himself unintelligibly as he tried out various scenarios in his head. After watching him for several minutes, Steve finally gave up on waiting for an answer. "Hey, you're making me dizzy watching you. Let me know if you figure anything out, will ya, Sherlock?" Steve requested. "I'm going to check with the guys finishing up in the garage. When you're done up here, why don't you do a quick walk-around with the team who processed the exterior, and I'll meet you out by the car."

After concluding that he wasn't going to find the answer to his unanswered questions, Danny headed outside. He spoke with HPD and quickly confirmed that there were no fresh footprints in the dirt and lawn surrounding most of the house. The techs had double-checked the various entries and egresses and concluded that any entry and exit had been done via the front door, which opened onto a pavestone walkway and gravel driveway. If they were right, Danny concluded, that left little hope for finding any stray footprints or tire tracks.

Steve appeared a few minutes later and they began to make their way back to HQ. As they exchanged notes in the car, Steve's phone rang. "McGarrett," he barked, putting the phone on speaker. "What've you got?"

Kono quickly delivered her update, confirming that she and Chin had been to Serena's house, spoken to her roommate, and dropped off her laptop at the crime lab. "And Boss," she added.

"What?"

"You should know that we were being tailed," she replied.

"Tailed?" he said, frowning. "By whom?"

"We're not sure – they took off before we could stop them. But we got a hit on the plates. They were government issue. Executive branch security pool."

"Got it," Steve said. "We'll meet you back at HQ in fifteen."

"Tailed?" Danny asked as Steve hung up and hit the accelerator. "Sounds like Denning's got more than just a casual interest in our investigation."

Steve growled under his breath, reluctantly agreeing.

Steve pulled into his parking space back at HQ and the two lawmen made their way into the building. Danny checked his phone again, just in case, before chasing down Kono and Chin.

Meanwhile Steve caught up with coroner Max Bergman by phone. He was just hanging up when Danny stopped in his doorway.

"TOD on Serena Andrews was between 11 and 12 last night," Steve announced. "Max just confirmed that she had sexual intercourse just prior to the murder."

"So there's DNA —" Danny began.

"Right, Max has put a rush order on it. Lab should have answers any time soon."

"I just got off the phone with the lab," Danny finally broke in.

"Did we get a hit?" Steve asked hopefully.

"I dunno," Danny replied.

Steve frowned. "You just said you got off the phone with the lab."

"Yeah, I did." Danny agreed. "And they told me they were under strict orders _not_ to rush the testing."

"Orders from whom?" Steve demanded.

Danny raised his eyebrow as he replied, "Governor Denning's office."

Steve's face darkened and he grabbed his weapon as he stalked from the office.

"Hey!" Danny called after him. "You know we only just recently got your ass off the hook for killing Jameson. If you were just gonna go kill her predecessor, you could have saved us all a lot of trouble!" _And maybe I would be back in New Jersey now instead of going through this goddamned custody nightmare,_ Danny silently mumbled to himself.

* * *

Danny was reviewing Max's autopsy report when Steve poked his head back into his office half an hour later. Danny looked up from his notes and saw Steve's grim expression. **"** So lemme guess – you went in guns blazing and he's dismantled the task force. So not only am I without a daughter, but I'm out of a job."

"Survey says, _ehhh_!" Steve replied, making the universal "wrong answer!" noise.

"What, McGarrett went with the subtle approach? I find that hard to believe," Danny smirked skeptically.

"Uh-uh," Steve replied, shaking his head. "Didn't need to, 'cause my method worked."

"What do you mean 'your method' worked?"

"I barged into his office and let him have it," he replied, as if storming into the governor's office and virtually accusing him of killing a prostitute were an everyday occurrence.

"Seriously? And I still have a job?" Danny asked, incredulous. "Damn," he muttered, conveying both mock disappointment and somewhat more than a smidgen of admiration at what Steve had managed to get away with (again). "So what did he say?"

"Well," Steve relayed, "When I told him the vic was a prostitute, he seemed genuinely surprised."

"He could act surprised all he wants, but that won't mean shit if it's his DNA we found," said Danny.

"He swore it won't be."

"And you believe him?" Danny asked.

"I do. The DNA won't lie."

"Then, I take it he offered up a plausible alternative john for our friend Serena?"

"He did," Steve nodded.

"And just who might our lucky contestant be?" Danny asked in his best game-show-host voice.

"Congressman Chris Freed, come on down!" Steve replied, unenthusiastically playing along.

"Our Rep?" Danny said, surprised. "The one who's running for the open Senate seat? This just keeps getting better and better. Lemme guess - another F-O-G?"

Steve nodded.

"So, what's Chris Freed doing at the Dugans' house in Kahala?"

"Denning said Freed had asked him for help finding a place to stay."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Danny raised his hands in a "stop" motion. "Why would he need a place to stay? I thought all the reps keep a home in their district."

Steve shrugged in reply.

Danny frowned, pulled his laptop closer, and began typing; he soon answered his own question. "Okay, that explains it. He keeps a home outside of Hilo on the Big Island."

"That explains it," Steve pointed out. "Hilo's too far away. He'd need to be staying near Honolulu to be in the middle of the action, especially with the Senate debate coming up."

"Okay, let's just play this out. Let's assume that Freed _is_ staying in Kahala with some friends of our esteemed employer..."

"Yeah?" Steve nodded at him to continue.

"...That would explain why it looks like someone – someone with an expensive budget for clothes – moved in to stay for a couple of weeks..."

Steve nodded again. "Okay..."

"... So he gets a little lonely, and gets himself some sugar? I mean, it could still be a crime of passion, but I gotta be honest with you, though," Danny added. "Something doesn't feel right. It's the eve of the Special Election. Wouldn't this be the stupidest possible time _ever_ , for a politician to even _think_ about a prostitute, never mind offing her in his bed? Hasn't this guy ever heard of Ken Starr?"

"I'm with you on that one, Danny," Steve agreed. "But Denning is convinced there's no way Freed could be our man."

"You'll have to forgive me if the governor isn't at the top of my list of unbiased character witnesses here," Danny scoffed.

"I'm just telling you what Denning said," Steve replied.

"Which is?"

"That they go way back; they served together,"

"Look, I know that means a lot to you military types," Danny said, "but you'll have to bear with me if I'm just a little bit skeptical. Who says Freed didn't let the power go to his head? I mean, aren't all politicians are basically corrupt?"

"Freed is a medal of honor recipient," Steve noted.

Danny shrugged, unimpressed. "Big deal."

"He's the front-runner in an election with national implications," Steve continued, "…and, he's a single father." As Steve expected, the latter two words hit a soft spot in Danny's underbelly. "Denning's just asked us to make sure we have our facts straight before we ruin his life..."

"…or his kids'," Danny finished the sentence for him. "Okay, I can relate to that. So why's Denning stonewalling us, then? If he's so sure Freed's innocent, wouldn't he want us to clear his name as fast as possible?"

"He says he just wants to stay on top of things, to do damage control," Steve said.

" _Spin_ control, you mean," Danny muttered. "Typical politician."

"He promised he'll stop blocking us if we keep him posted."

"And if he doesn't?" Danny asked.

"Then I'll just have to go back with bigger guns blazing."

"I was afraid you were going to say that," Danny rolled his eyes.

"Hey guys," Kono said, stopping in the doorway to join Steve. "Fong just came back with results on the prints from the Dugans' house."

Steve turned to face her, crossing his arms. "And?"

"And," she replied, "There were too many in the main living areas to isolate, but they got a few hits off the bedroom. Both Dugans, Bobby Palea…"

"The caretaker," Danny nodded.

"Maria Kahike, their housekeeper – she was popped for shoplifting as a teen, and, you're never gonna guess who else —"

"Congressman Chris Freed," both Steve and Danny replied.

"Uh, if you already talked to Fong, you didn't need send me on a wild goose chase," Kono replied suspiciously.

"We haven't talked to Fong since we left Kahala," Steve said.

"Okay, so what's the deal?" Kono asked. "You didn't go back to see that psychic, did you Danny?"

"A-ha! So you're admitting they might actually be helpful?" Danny cracked a knowing smile.

Steve felt like he was missing out on some inside joke. "There are no psychics involved. We don't use psychics." Kono stuck her tongue out triumphantly and Danny frowned in reply. Steve continued, "Kono, apparently Freed's a friend of the governor's. After I confronted Denning about holding up our investigation, he admitted he was protecting Freed because he had suggested Freed use the Dugans' as a crash pad."

"Nice of him to let us in on that bit of intel," Kono noted.

"My point exactly," Danny agreed.

Steve ignored him. "So, the presence of Freed's prints is consistent with the governor's story that Freed was staying at the house in Kahala."

"But they also put him at the scene of the crime, making him our prime suspect," Danny reminded him.

"Yow," Kono replied, eyes opening.

"Yeah, well, the prints are only circumstantial," Danny replied. "But now we've got opportunity.

"Oooh boy," she whistled. "This is gonna be interesting."

"Yup," Danny agreed. "And since Max's report confirms strangulation, which should be pretty easy for an ex-Marine."

"So, now all we need is motive," Steve said, turning to Danny. "Should we go see if we can go find one?"

"Congressman Freed?" Danny asked.

"You got it," Steve confirmed. "Kono, stay on Serena. Get a phone log from her cell carrier, and let's make sure there isn't a jealous boyfriend, some pimp or disgruntled dealer we've overlooked. And see if Chin can put together a timeline for our buddy Freed."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I watched the first 4 episodes of Season 1 after writing the first draft of this chapter. What floored me is how well they've developed these characters on-screen. So even though chapters 1-3 were written having watched only a handful of late season 2 and 3 episodes, I couldn't believe that words I imagined Danny saying in the courtroom were actually very close to actual scenes taken from the pilot (talking to Steve on the McGarrett beach), and in Malama Ka Aina (when Rachel threatens to turn off visitation). Big kudos to the writers and actors.


	5. She Knows, Danny, She Knows (Freed for Senate Campaign HQ)

***** She Knows, Danny, She Knows (Freed for Senate Campaign HQ) ***  
**

Steve and Danny continued to discuss the case as they made their way outside.

"I'm gonna have HPD send a car ahead to make sure Freed doesn't do a runner," Danny suggested, pulling out his cell phone.

"Negative," Steve replied. "Hold off on that. Let's not spook him. Denning's been able to keep this on the quiet so far, so let's not tip our hand."

"How do we know he hasn't already tipped off Freed?" Danny asked.

"He swore he didn't know where he was," Steve replied.

"And you believe him, huh?" Danny's text alert sounded. He nervously took out his phone and relayed with a dejected sigh, "It's Kono," he relayed, reading her text out loud. "Yesterday was apparently trash day in Kahala, so any evidence may be on its way to the dump. She's got calls out to H-POWER and Waimanalo Gulch Landfill to see if they can pinpoint where it was sent and get some unis out to take a look."

"Better them than me," Steve chuckled.

"No kidding," Danny agreed. "I'm with you there, man. I do _not_ miss those days."

Both shuddered silently at the unpleasant task of searching through the trash for evidence.

"That cell phone's still bugging me," Danny said. "I mean, Freed could have taken it, knowing that the call history would trace back to him."

Steve nodded and kept his eyes on the road.

"But what I don't get is this – she's already dead in his bed. What would the cell phone add?"

"Maybe a sexting log? A threatening message?"

"I dunno. Unless it's photos – and he would have to be king of the idiots for there to be photos, he's gotta know we can pull most of that off the phone company servers," Danny replied. "So, let me ask you something. If you had a reputation to protect, and you'd just killed a hooker in your bed, wouldn't you get rid of more than just her phone?"

"Hell, I'd dispose of the body," Steve said.

"Exactly," Danny agreed. "Let's just say that he kills her and panics, but he doesn't have enough time to ditch the body. So he rummages through her bag to grab the cell phone before leaving to go…to go, where? To work? You think we're really gonna find him there?"

"Maybe he thought he'd have time to take care of it later?" Steve suggested. "The Dugans are out of town for a couple of weeks. Caretaker said he was only supposed to stop in every few days, and wasn't due back until tomorrow."

"I know that you people operate on 'island time,' here," Danny said, "and that 'tomorrow' means the caretaker might not be back until sometime next month, but _seriously_? He leaves a dead body in the bed and heads to work like it's business as usual? Denning and the Dugans must be awfully good friends. I mean, can you imagine what you would have done if I'd left a dead woman in your bed while I was staying at your house?"

"Well, that depends."

"That depends?" Danny asked incredulously. "On _what?"_

"On who the body is, of course," Steve replied.

"Really?" Danny asked. "Okay, I'll play along. What if the body were…" Danny tried to think of an example other than a prostitute. "What if it were, I dunno…Rachel?"

"Really, Danny?" Steve asked. "Rachel? Again? In _my_ bed?"

"Okay, forget I said that," Danny said. "Let's assume it was a dead prostitute."

"Nah, you're too uptight for that," Steve said.

"Oh, for god's sake, Steve," Danny exclaimed. "This is a hypothetical. _It doesn't matter who the girl in the bed is._ But let's say I left a dead girl in your bed. What would you do about it? 'Cause I know you, Steve. You'd want to see justice done. You'd want her family to have closure. So you'd want to catch her killer."

"Did you kill her?"

"What?" Danny asked.

" _Did you kill her_?" Steve repeated, with emphasis.

"No I didn't kill her! Of course, I didn't kill her," Danny protested. "You, on the other hand, I'd consider killing. But the girl? No.…But you wouldn't know that I didn't kill her, since you wouldn't have had a chance to talk to me yet. I'd be MIA. Just like our buddy Freed so far as we know."

"Well, then I'd probably make sure that we quickly contained anything that would point to you until we could find you and figure out what the hell is going on."

"In other words, you'd obstruct justice," Danny said.

"Yes, Danny," Steve confirmed, matter-of-factly. "You know I would if I had to, to clear your name." Both of their thoughts unavoidably turned to more grievous violations they'd both committed for their loved ones – from concealing Danny's brother Matt's escape plan, to shooting Stan, harboring Steve while he was a fugitive, and breaking into the HPD evidence locker.

"So, then, do we really believe that all Denning's done is a little bit of shadowing and delaying?" Danny asked. "It's a little different when we're on the other side, don't you think?"

Before he'd even finished his sentence, Steve had his phone out and had hit the speed-dial, deliberately keeping the phone off speaker – the last thing he needed to do was to mediate a catfight between Danny and Denning.

Danny listened to Steve's side of the phone conversation, trying to interpolate the half of the discussion he couldn't hear. "Yes, Governor. On our way there, now, sir. Look, we had a few other questions…Yeah. We looked all over and didn't find any of the things house guests usually leave behind – boarding passes, credit card receipts, change. And the vic's cell phone was missing. Any idea why?...It was?...You did?...I see." Danny raised an eyebrow at the aneurysm look on Steve's face. "Uh huh, I see…but not the cell phone?

"Did anyone know else know that Freed was staying with the Dugans?...Not even the Dugans themselves?...And how long has he been staying there?... Anything else you've forgotten to mention, Governor?...You're sure this time? Right, we'll keep you posted." Steve hung up and swore under his breath.

"Lemme guess," Danny said. "Someone conveniently scooped up anything that would obviously identify Freed?"

"Mmm," Steve growled. "Denning swears he's having it boxed up and sent over to Five-0 as we speak. Tell Chin keep an eye out for it. And see if Kono's had any luck with Serena's phone logs."

"So much for chain of evidence," Danny said, checking his phone and then sending texts Chin and Kono. "What'd he say about the phone?"

"He said it was already gone when his people got there," Steve replied.

"So either Denning's still holding back, Freed took it, or we're back to the hooker without a cell phone?"

"I don't like any of those options either," Steve agreed.

Danny turned on the radio and began flipping channels until he found the news and talk station. They listened intently for a few minutes before Danny was convinced and turned it off.

"Okay, so nothing's hit the press yet," Danny concluded. "The talk show idiots are still debating his Freed's stand on gay marriage and legalizing pot. So Denning's done a kick-ass job of keeping the lid on this. But I still can't believe Freed would just stroll into the office today like nothing happened."

"Well," Steve replied, pulling into the parking lot by Freed's campaign headquarters, "we'll find out soon enough. Besides, if Freed's not there, we got a headquarters full of staff to ask."

* * *

Danny was not at all convinced that they would get anything out of the congressman, even if they happened to find him in the office. "You know what we call this in police work?"

"What?" Steve asked impatiently, without breaking stride.

"A complete and total waste of time," Danny replied.

"Listen to me," Steve said, "anybody knows where the congressman is, it's gonna be his press secretary."

"He's not gonna tell us anything," Danny scoffed. "These people lie for a living. You know that, right?"

After a random volunteer pointed out Freed's press secretary, Josh Lowry, they quickly introduced themselves. As Josh finished his phone conversation, Danny casually glanced around the bustling office. The makeshift headquarters was filled with red, white, and blue balloons, American flags and buntings worthy of a Main Street Fourth of July parade. Fresh-faced young volunteers answered phones and sat at desks, literally licking envelopes.

Danny watched – as Steve politely nodded and gave Josh every opportunity to come clean – and waited for the other shoe to drop. Josh tap danced around Steve's softball questions, clearly mistaking them for representatives of the policeman's annual fund. Steve glanced at Danny, who conveniently looked away to mask his amused grin – things never worked out well when people didn't cooperate with Steve.

Then Steve lobbed the verbal equivalent of a hand grenade, speaking just loudly enough to make himself clear, but not quite loudly enough to be heard by passers-by. "I have a question. Actually. Maybe you could tell us, what's the congressman's position on dead hookers found in his bed?"

_That caught his attention_ , Danny chuckled to himself. Watching Josh squirm, he couldn't resist driving the verbal knife in a little deeper. " _Strangled_ dead hookers."

Finally recognizing that this wasn't a simple fundraising visit or an attempt to get Freed to side with them on issues of law enforcement, Josh quickly ushered them into a private conference room. "No. There's no way; there's gotta be some kind of mistake. The congressman would _never_ get involved with a prostitute," he insisted. "His stand on the exploitation of sex workers is very clear. And as far as murder goes —"

"Lemme guess," Danny interrupted and quipped with a smile, "He's completely against it."

Steve smiled to himself. _That sounds more like the Danny I know._

"Do you know the congressman?" Josh challenged.

"About as much as you can in a 15-second sound bite," Danny replied.

"All I'm sayin' is spend 10 minutes with the man," Josh said, fully earnestly. "You'll be absolutely convinced at how outrageous your accusations are. Now, if this country had more men like congressman Freed —"

"There'd be a chicken in every pot and a dead ho' in every bed, right?" Danny interrupted, smirking. Steve was glad to hear Danny hitting his stride, regardless of how inappropriate and disrespectful his comments were.

Josh glared back, unable to keep up with Danny's verbal jousting. He ended up conceding, "I'm not saying he's perfect, but he's pretty damn close. The mere suggestion that he could possibly be involved in something like this is incredibly insulting. To him, to his family, and to his legacy — "

"Okay," Danny said, getting fed up. "That is a beautiful speech. Okay. _Where is he_?"

"Look, Mr. Lowry," Steve added, "if the congressman is as big on law enforcement as you say, then you'll understand. We have to do our job. Now where is he? We're not going to ask you again."

"Geez, uh…." Josh hemmed and hawed. He finally stood up, looked around nervously and confessed. "We've been spending all morning covering for him."

"You don't even know where he is?" Danny asked.

"No, we don't," Josh admitted.

"You didn't think to tell anybody?" Steve added.

"Look, the political reality is this. The Special Election is a nail-biter and we haven't really had any time to campaign," Josh explained. "Any little thing could tip the scales. Now if news got out that Freed was off the grid…let's just say that would be bad."

_Seriously?_ both men thought.

"No, no, no," Danny corrected, giving voice to what they were thinking. "I'll tell you what would be bad. Bad would be a breaking news story: Congressman Freed, suspect in a homicide." Danny mimed a big splashy headline to make sure Josh got the picture.

"Whoa," Josh paused, alarmed. When pressed, the best he could suggest was that Freed might be holed up with his chief of staff and confidante, Amy Davidson, preparing for the upcoming debate.

Danny shook his head in frustration. Steve heard his conclusion loud and clear. _I told you this was a waste of time._

Steve left Josh with his business card and little doubt that there would be highly undesirable consequences if he neglected to call in as soon as Amy or Freed were located. As they left the office, Danny checked his phone for messages – no messages, no news – while Steve took a call from Chin.

"Any luck pinging the congressman's phone?" Steve asked.

"No, no signal," Chin reported.

"Well try his chief of staff, Amy Davidson," Steve instructed. "Chances are, we find one, we find the other."

Kono got on the line and added that the DNA had come back with a hit, but for a vacationing academic named Ryan Webb – not Congressman Freed.

"Okay, good work," Steve said. "Anything else?"

Chin confirmed that the Congressman's personal items had arrived but they hadn't found any link to Serena Andrews. Kono added that Serena's phone logs had been pulled and there were no calls to any lines that were associated with Freed – not to his cell, home, DC office, campaign office, or district office – although there were several calls to an unidentified pre-paid phone.

Steve quickly dispatched Kono and Chin to pick up Webb at his hotel and he and Danny got into the car to return to the office.

"Okay, so the congressman's missing," Danny began. "At least that kind of makes sense. I mean, if I didn't dispose of the body, then I'd make myself scarce, too."

"Only no one knows where he is…" continued Steve, "except for Amy Davidson, who's also unaccounted for."

"And who's probably working on his cover story as we speak," Danny completed his sentence for him. "I'll give you ten-to-one that they're in cahoots."

"Cahoots?" Steve asked. "Who says cahoots?"

Danny ignored him. "What I don't get is this. Didn't Denning say he's a single father?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Well, speaking from the perspective of someone with first-hand experience as a single father, if I'd done something so awful that I needed to go into hiding, there's no way in hell I'd disappear without saying goodbye to Grace first."

"Good point," Steve said. "We should have Kono check in with the kids."

Danny started to text Kono then changed his mind and called her instead. "Hey, Kono," he began. "Listen, we know Chris Freed's a single father. That means somewhere out there he's got kids. If he's gone into hiding, he may have tried to make contact before disappearing…Yeah, so see if you can chase them down and see if they've heard from him…Right. But Kono – make sure you keep it low-key. We don't want to scare them unnecessarily…You got it. Thanks."

He put the phone back in his pocket then relayed to Steve, "She's on it."

"Good," Steve replied. "Now all we have to do is —" He didn't get a chance to finish his thought as One Direction began to sound from Danny's side of the car.

Danny shifted in his seat to pull his phone back out of his pocket and answered, "Hey, Monkey!"

Steve looked out the driver's window so Danny couldn't see his face. Danny was like a different person – a very different and _happy_ person – whenever Grace arrived, called, or even when she popped up in conversation.

Steve didn't think he would ever cease to be charmed by the instantaneous physical and emotional transformation, and Steve had long ago realized he had a hard time hiding the smile it inevitably brought to his own face whenever it occurred. One thing Steve knew for sure was that he would never grow tired of watching Grace's face light up when Danny walked in the room.

Steve had long believed that Danny would only leave Grace in Rachel and Stan's exclusive care over his dead body. But it was only when Danny's close encounter with the proximity-sensor activated bomb that Steve recognized how entangled he'd personally become in Danny and Grace's lives.

"If something happens to me I need you to take care of Grace," Danny had said, with real fear of those being his last words.

Steve had replied, "That's your job." And he'd meant it. He knew he would do anything to avoid losing Danny and Grace, whether that meant standing by a live explosive or wearing a monkey suit and tie.

But Steve had grown to care for Grace just as deeply as he cared for Danny – and not just because she's Danny's daughter. From the instant she had smiled at him with those clear, innocent eyes, and admitted – much to Danny's chagrin – that Danno talked about his partner all the time, "Gracie" had captured Steve's heart as well. So, even before Chin officially formally inducted her into Five-0's _Ohana_ a few minutes later – introducing himself as "Uncle Chin" per island custom, Steve had come to think of Grace as family. After listening to Danny proudly detail every milestone in Grace's life – from big to small, Steve felt like he knew Grace better than he knew his own sister and mother. And over the last two years, being "Uncle Steve" had become an integral, though unexpected, part of the fabric of his life.

Steve worried how she must be feeling as Danny beamed contentedly on answering, like he always did when she called. A slight crack in his voice betrayed the cheerful facade he put on for her benefit. "Aren't you supposed to be in class right now?" he accused playfully. Then recognizing why she might be calling, he asked with dread, "Hey, you're okay aren't you? Have you heard anything?"

It was Steve's turn to listen to Danny's half of the conversation. "No, sweetheart, I haven't heard anything yet, either…I know…I know…Me too…I'll definitely talk to you tonight, no matter what…Don't worry, everything's going to be okay…I know…Okay." Danny said, adding quietly at the end, "Danno loves you." He sighed deeply as he hung up.

Steve waited a few moments to allow Danny to gather his thoughts before asking, "How's she holding up. This can't be easy for her."

"It's killing her. It's like we're tearing her in half and asking her to choose."

"Well, like you told her, everything will be okay," Steve tried.

"I don't think she believed me," Danny said, woefully. "I wouldn't believe me. Hell, _I_ don't even believe me."

"Danny, you're a great father," Steve said in a way he hoped sounded upbeat and as sincere as he felt. "Grace, she knows she can count on you."

"Does she?" Danny asked. "How many times have I been late, or have I had to ask Rachel to cover for me because I'm stuck on a case…not to mention the times when I almost didn't make it back to show up at all because I could have been _dead?_ "

"Yeah, but Danny," Steve challenged, "I know how hard you try to be there, how much you think about her. She's gotta know that."

"I dunno," Danny replied, unconvinced. "Your old man was a cop. I know you felt like he was an absentee dad."

"She knows, Danny. She knows."

"How can you, of all people say that?"

"Danny, my dad sent me and my sister _away,"_ Steve argued. "I know he had his reasons, but look at you. You're doing everything you can to make sure you're never far away."

"But even before you left, you said you felt your dad wasn't there for you," Danny replied.

Steve recalled how many years he spent resenting his dad for keeping him at arm's length. It was only after his recent return to Five-0 that he learned that his dad had really been there for him more than he realized, dragging Chin to Kakui High football games to cheer from the stands, unbeknownst to Steve. But it wasn't until he listened to the handheld recorder in the Champ box that Steve really appreciated how much love the taciturn John McGarrett had been unable to express.

"I used to, but I'm starting to understand he had reasons for what he did," Steve said.

"Yeah, great. When Grace is our age and when I'm sixty-something, she'll understand. Christ, I sound like a fuckin' Beatles song."

"It's not the same."

"Why not? Your dad was a cop. I'm a cop. You grew up thinking your dad wasn't there for you, and Grace is gonna do the same," Danny lamented.

"Well, for one thing, you remember how Victor Hesse put my dad on the phone before he shot him?"

"Yeah. That's when he dropped the 'Champ' clue, right?"

"Yeah, right. But there was something else he said," Steve admitted. "Something else I've only told Mary."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. While Victor Hesse held a gun to his head, he said, 'I love you, son. I didn't say it enough.'"

Danny let out a deep breath of sympathy. "Steve, I'm sorry. I didn't know that."

"I know you didn't. And more to the point, neither did I, really," Steve said. "Not until he said it out loud on the phone that day. My dad – he wasn't good with the emotional connection stuff; he wasn't a talker. It took the threat of imminent death to tell me he loved me. And you, well…you're _you_ , Danny. You couldn't stop talking if your life depended on it. So it's completely different with you and Grace. I've heard you tell her how much you love her more times in the last week than I heard in my entire life. I can't imagine how many times she hears it when I'm not around. She knows, Danny. She knows."

Danny nodded uncertainly.

"Look, Danny," Steve said, "I always respected my old man for doing what he did, even if it kept him away. Grace does, too. The difference is, she _knows_ you love her, that you will always love her unconditionally, no matter where you are, where she is." He silently added to himself, _even if you are thousands of miles away._

"I don't want her respect. I need more than that," Danny insisted. "I need her in my life. I don't know what I'm gonna do if she has to move."

Steve tried to think of an encouraging reply, but could think of nothing that sounded convincing. He settled for saying, "I know, Danny, I know."

They rode in silence the rest of the way, each pondering the unsaid "what-ifs" that worried them both.

* * *

Danny spent most of the remaining car ride thinking about Grace. In the last few minutes as they approached Five-0 headquarters, he forced himself to turn his "cop-mode" back on. Despite the evidence, Danny couldn't quite reconcile the honorable hero and loving family man that Lowry and Denning had both so earnestly defended and the allegations that were pointing in his direction.

"Hey Steve," Danny said as they exited the car. "Since you've got Chin working on Freed's movement I'm gonna see what I can dig up about his past – past sexual indiscretions or scandals – and anything that might connect him to Serena Andrews."

"Good idea," Steve agreed. "I'll handle interrogation with Chin."

After twenty minutes with Assistant Professor Ryan Webb, Steve and Chin realized they were essentially dealing with a doofus – and a second-rate doofus, at that – from Lima, Ohio, looking for a little excitement while away from the ball and chain. The fact that he'd hooked up with Serena in a bathroom at the bar explained in part why Webb's DNA was found on the body, but not in the bed.

Forensics had not found evidence of condom use, and the lack of fluids didn't support any additional intimate contact, much less sex in the bed in Kahala. There still wasn't enough evidence to conclude conclusively whether she had been killed in the bed, serviced any other clients, or that she'd ever even met Chris Freed.

Steve left Chin to finish up the interrogation, then poked his nose into Danny's office where he found Danny, surrounded by printouts and staring at his laptop screen.

"C'mon, Danny, take a break. I'll buy you lunch," Steve offered.

"You feeling okay?" Danny asked.

"Yeah, why?" Steve asked, surprised.

"You never buy," Danny replied.

"Well, I'm buying today," Steve insisted.

"Nah," said Danny, "I'm on a roll."

"Catch a lead?" Steve asked.

"No," Danny replied. "In fact, nothing at all."

"So what're you working on?" Steve asked.

"Well, that's just it. I feel like I'm chasing ghosts. There's nothing there," Danny explained. "None of this adds up. This guy's completely clean."

"Tell me about it over lunch," Steve insisted. "You're not gonna do Grace or me any good if you get yourself killed because you faint on the job. Let's go."

"I'm not gonna pass out," Danny replied indignantly, but reluctantly agreed.

Danny talked as they walked across the street to the local sandwich shop, steering a wide path around any potentially prying ears.

"So Christopher Elliot Freed served twenty years active duty, five tours overseas, and received the Medal of Honor," Danny began. "He was first elected to the House of Reps in 2004 and has served on the Armed Services, Homeland Security, Education, and Ethics committees in addition to chairing Veteran Affairs.

"He takes no PAC money. He's got a perfect roll-call record. His financials are clean. He files his taxes on time and he's never been audited. Everyone from his security detail to the cleaning staff, hotel desk clerks, his in-laws, and his wife's best friend swear he's got no history of philandering or solicitation. No one even seems to think he's lusted in his heart — "

"Wow," Steve interrupted, impressed. "You've been busy."

"Well, it's keeping my mind off of..things, you know?" Danny said "Plus, if it were me, I'd want someone doing their homework before they exposed Grace to any mudslinging."

"Fair enough," Steve agreed, before getting back on track. "You mentioned his wife's best friend? I thought Denning and Lowry both said Freed's a single dad."

"He is," Danny confirmed. "His wife, Marla, died four years ago from breast cancer. He's been active raising funds in her memory while raising their only child – a daughter, Katie. This guy's a friggin' boy scout, Steve. No indiscretions, no whispers, no poorly-kept secrets. Hell, I hate all politicians and _I_ might even have to vote for the guy…well, that is, unless of course he killed Serena Andrews. It just doesn't make sense."

Danny lowered his voice as they got into the long line, dropping to a barely audible lip-read for any identifiable phrases. "Since he's been in town, our guy's been using a limo service – that would explain in part why there was no car in the driveway. Dispatch has record of taking him from Kahala to his _district office_ yesterday morning, and later from the district office to his _campaign headquarters_. But there's no record of him leaving."

As they made their way to the front of the line, Danny paused to nod at the clerk behind the counter. "Yeah, the usual."

Steve nodded as well. "Me, too."

"I'll get both of these," Steve said to the cashier, plucking Danny's order slip out of his hand and handing it, along with his own to the cashier. She smiled sweetly at him and he winked back, causing her to blush furiously. While they waited for their sandwiches, Danny pointedly walked over to the window and began searching the sky.

"What the hell are you doing?" Steve asked, picking up two over-sized sandwiches, wrapped in waxy paper.

"Looking for pigs," Danny joked.

"Har-har," Steve replied. "Very funny. Enjoy it while you can."

"Thanks," Danny said, lifting the sandwich as if making a toast. "I will."

Steve nodded, _you're welcome_. They paused outside the shop for a minute to unwrap the sandwiches so they could eat as they walked.

"According to Chin, his staff says he was alone at the campaign headquarters last night, working on his debate notes," Danny picked back up on his narration. "He's supposed to debate Brad Powers early next week." Danny stopped himself, took a big bite and swallowed.

"So what are we missing?" Steve asked.

"I dunno," Danny replied as they made their way up the stairs to Five-0's offices, his mouth full of Italian sub. "I've got a few more things I want to look into. If you don't need me for anything, I'll catch you in a bit."

"Yeah, sure, Danny," Steve said, watching Danny make his way down the hall to his office. Steve took another bite from his own sandwich – roast beef, extra rare, with horseradish – and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge in his office, then sat down to review his notes on the case.

Meanwhile, Kono stopped into Steve's office to let him know that she had chased down Freed's daughter, Katie, at her boarding school on the Big Island, but hadn't learned anything useful. Katie last spoke to him the previous morning, and their conversation was just business as usual; she hadn't heard from him since. "And Steve," she added on her way out the door, "Tell Danny I told Katie I was doing some advanced reconnaissance to help set up security; you know, for if and when he wins the Senate seat. I asked her about her daily routine and I think she bought it. I don't think she suspects anything."

"Thanks, Kono," Steve replied with a smile, thankful to at least be able to remove one worry from Danny's already much-too-long list today.

Steve stopped back in interrogation to find Chin had finished. He started to ask for an update, but Chin held up a hand, motioning to the phone tucked under his chin as he took notes with the other. When he finished, Chin confirmed Webb's timeline – that a bartender confirmed seeing Serena Andrews leave the Leaky Tiki Lounge around ten, without Webb.

"So 10 o'clock was the last time anyone saw Serena alive," said Steve.

"Mm-hmm. And with TOD set between 11 and 12…" Chin began as they made their way back upstairs.

"…there's no way Webb could have killed her," Steve concluded.

"So we're back to Square One," Chin said.

"Not quite," said Kono, catching up with them in the hallway. "We just got a call from our friend Josh Lowry. Looks like Freed's chief of staff, Amy Davidson, just walked into campaign headquarters."

Steve barked put another set of assignments over his shoulder, then jogged the rest of the way up to Danny's office. "Amy Davidson just arrived at Freed's headquarters."

"So we're gonna go watch her dog and pony show?" Danny asked, looking up from his laptop with a sigh. "You know she's gonna be worse than Lowry. She probably has a PowerPoint done already on why Saint Chris couldn't be our man."

"Just shut up and get your ass out of that chair," Steve ordered as Danny reluctantly grabbed his weapon and followed him out to the car.

* * *

Steve briefed Danny on his conversations with Kono and Chin on the way back to Freed's headquarters, where they soon arrived to find a very annoyed Josh Lowry. Josh explained that Amy had arrived just in time to take over a pre-debate meeting with Freed's opponent, Brad Powers.

"Picks up right where she left off like nothing even happened," Josh complained.

"She tell you where she was?" asked Steve.

"No," Josh replied. "She went behind closed doors with Powers and they've been there ever since."

At that moment, Powers exited Amy's office, followed closely by a dark-suited hulk of a body guard. "Josh, you disappoint me," he said to the unhappy press secretary. "I don't know what kind of campaign you're running here, but I don't buy any of this spin for a moment."

"We're not spinning anything, Mr. Powers," Josh politely replied.

"Really? Then what's Five-0 doing here?" challenged Powers.

"That's between us and the congressman, sir," Steve replied.

"Yeah, well when you see him, please ask him why he blew me off last night with not so much as a phone call," Powers requested.

"What time were you supposed to meet him?" Danny asked.

"Eleven o'clock," Powers replied, adding, "I've known Chris Freed for 15 years. He's never pulled a stunt like that."

"I'm sure it's just a misunderstanding, sir," Josh tried.

"He said he wanted to run a civil campaign – one with mutual respect and all of that," Powers said. "This is a hell of a way to show it. I don't know what you people are hiding, but I'm gonna find out. And when I do," he added menacingly, "so will the press."

Powers stalked out of the office while Danny turned to Josh to point out the obvious. "We need to talk to Amy. Now."

Josh walked them into Amy's office and made a quick introduction.

"Ms. Davidson," Steve jumped in, "where's Congressman Freed?"

"I don't know," Amy replied nervously. After a pause, she added, "But I think he might have done something terrible." Danny and Steve exchanged surprised glances while she continued. _That was definitely not what I was expecting,_ thought Danny.

"Don't you think I'd help you guys if I could?" she continued. "I just don't know where he is right now."

_Yeah right,_ Danny thought. _You'd help us chase down every red herring on this side of the planet if it will keep us off Freed's tail._

"Okay," Danny said impatiently. "Let's start with you. Where have you been?"

"I was out," she replied, "looking for _him._ Look, you don't get it. This is complicated."

"Then speak slowly," Steve requested. "I need to know why a man like Congressman Freed would risk everything to get serviced by a prostitute."

"To tell you the truth," Amy replied, " _I_ brought her to meet the congressman."

Danny shot Steve a look that said, _Seriously?_ "That's a smart move," he said cynically. "Why'd you do that?"

"It doesn't happen all the time," Amy explained, "but he's under a lot of stress and he's a single father, so he's on his own...I mean, besides his daughter there's really no one else in his life."

_Hell yeah, that applies to me, too_ , thought Danny. _But even I have enough common sense to keep my weiner away from buns with arrest records and STDs. And I'm not even in the public eye.  
_

"So," Amy continued, "sometimes he just needs a little companionship for the evening."

"So you're chief of staff…and part-time madam for him?" Danny prodded.

"C'mon," she replied. "The guy's human."

_No,_ thought Danny. _I'm human. I get shot at, I bleed. I flirt with cute girls. I sleep with my ex-wife. I don't go out and pay for a quickie._

"All right, Amy. I have to ask you," Steve broke in, accepting her at her word at face value for the time being. "To the best of your knowledge, has the congressman ever hurt any of the women he's been with?"

"Rough stuff doesn't seem to be his thing, but who knows what goes on behind closed doors?"

The more Amy spoke, the more alarm bells went off in Danny's head. _What the hell is she up to?_

"Okay," Steve said. "Well, something happened last night. Where did you find Serena Andrews?"

"At a place called the Leaky Tiki Lounge," she replied, "….and I dropped her off at the mansion in Kahala."

"No, you delivered her, to the congressman," Danny clarified, "…like a pizza."

"Yes," Amy confirmed, without any apparent shame. Danny rolled his eyes at her brazenness.

"What about the congressman's 11 o'clock with Powers?" Steve asked. "Why did he blow that off?"

"I don't know. That's why I went back to the mansion. But when I got there, he was gone, and I found the girl in the bed."

"And being the pragmatic, political operative that you are," Danny said accusingly, "you decided to go to the governor, instead of the police?"

"Because I knew they were friends," she rationalized, "and I needed time to think."

"To plan a cover-up?" Danny suggested.

"No!" she exclaimed. "No. Something like this has _national_ repercussions, okay? You need to have a _viable_ strategy."

_Weasel_ , Danny thought.

"What time did you pick up Serena Andrews," Steve asked.

"Nine, nine-fifteen?" Amy replied uncertainly. "She was right on time."

Danny glared at her and caught Steve's eye to confirm that he caught the problem with Amy's timeline. _Gotcha._

"Am I under arrest?" she asked defiantly.

Danny looked at Steve, expecting to hear "Book her, Danno."

Instead, Steve said, "No, Ms. Davidson." Danny flashed Steve a _what-the-fuck-are-you doing?_ look as Steve continued. "One last thing. When you saw Serena Andrews lying on the bed in Kahala, did you happen to remove anything from the premises?"

"Remove something?" Amy asked, confused.

"Property, jewelry, identification…" Steve prompted.

"No!" she exclaimed. "I would _never_ do that. That'd be tampering with evidence!"

"She can't tamper with evidence but she gives the governor an anonymous tip instead of calling the police when she finds a dead body?" Danny muttered to himself.

"I'm sorry," Amy injected. "What did you say?"

"Nothing," Steve replied. "He was just thinking out loud, and sometimes that's not pretty." Danny opened his mouth to protest, but Steve had grabbed his elbow and was physically turning him around to steer him towards the door. "Josh Lowry has my card. If you hear from the congressman," Steve added, "please call us right away. Thanks for your time." He shook her hand and pushed Danny out of Amy's office.

"C'mon," he said to Danny.

"What are you doing?" Danny protested. "Did you just sit though the same interview I did?"

"Yes, I did," Steve calmly replied.

"Amy might be a good chief of staff, but she's a terrible liar," Danny argued. "All right, the professor was shaggin' Serena in a bathroom stall at 9:15. She didn't leave the bar until 10:00."

"You're right," Steve conceded.

"If I'm right, then why isn't she under arrest?" Danny wondered.

"'Cause we still have to find the congressman," Steve replied, "and if he's on the run, chances are he's gonna reach out to her."

"So let's sit on her phone," Danny suggested. "Post a surveillance team at her door."

"Exactly," Steve agreed. "And let Freed come to us. The thing I want to know is _why_ is Amy lying?"

They continued to talk through the details as they got in the car for the return drive to Five-0 HQ.

"Okay. So what do we know?" Danny asked rhetorically. "Serena Andrews leaves the Leaky Tiki at ten o'clock. The drive from the Leaky Tiki to Kahala takes about 20 minutes, so that puts her at the mansion at about 10:30. The last staffer saw Freed at about 7:30, so he certainly could have met her at the mansion at 10:30. And maybe he missed his 11 o'clock with Powers because he's either too busy killing her, or he's already killed her and is trying to figure out what to do with the body. So, Serena's already getting cold by 11:30 when Amy stops by. That would make a pretty good timeline."

Steve nodded and voiced what they were both thinking, "So there was no need for Amy to lie. So why did she?"

"Amy says Serena was on-time, even though she can't remember if she picked her up at nine or nine-fifteen," Danny noted. "Why does she want us to think Serena arrived earlier?"

"Maybe that's not what she's hiding," Steve reasoned. "Maybe Amy's using Serena as her own alibi."

Danny didn't need to wait for Steve to finish his thought and he was already on the phone. "Hey, Kono. Amy Davidson's claiming she picked up Serena Adams at the Leaky Tiki just after nine and then took her straight to the Dugans' in Kahala. We know this doesn't jive with Webb's story, and that's checked out so far. Can you see if you can chase down where she was last night? Pull her credit card receipts, check with Freed's staff to see if anyone can verify her whereabouts. Amy Davidson knows more than she's saying, and I want to know why."

Steve looked over his shoulder at Danny and smiled to himself. _I couldn't have said it better myself. He'd make a good CO._

"Okay, Kono says they'll get on it," Danny said, turning to Steve and almost catching Steve's smile. "So here's what else I don't get. She admits she saw the body; she cops to calling the governor instead of the police. So why not admit she took the phone? If she didn't take it, and Denning's people didn't take it, then we're still back to Freed."

"I don't know, Danny," Steve agreed. "Something's not right here."

"It's almost like it's too convenient," Danny said. "Everyone swears that Freed wouldn't touch a hooker with a ten-foot pole. Everyone, that is, other than Amy, who is all too happy to volunteer that she dropped off Serena just in time to fit the timeline perfectly. But not only is Amy's timeline bogus, but she conveniently drops hints that maybe he could get rough in bed? And she calls Denning? She's gotta know he's gonna hand it off to us. ID'ing the vic and putting the timeline together is so easy it's almost like someone wanted us to find her there. It's almost like…"

"….someone's setting up Freed for a fall." Steve finished Danny's thought for him.

Danny nodded in agreement. "But who?" he asked.

"And why?" Steve added.

* * *

When they got back to HQ, Steve and Danny practically ran into Chin and Kono in the hallway, deep in discussion as they made their way back from the SIS lab. After learning that Serena Andrews's killer wore surgical gloves, they had started tossing around alternative theories to a trick-gone-bad.

Steve and Danny followed Chin to Ops where he continued his update.

"We dumped Amy's call logs," Chin began. "No calls to or from the congressman since yesterday afternoon, but we did find a few odd things."

"Like what?" Danny asked.

"There were four calls from a pre-paid burn phone," Chin replied. "The same number we found on the log the cell phone company sent over for our vic."

"So maybe Amy's mystery date is the same guy who set up Serena and took her cell phone," Steve considered.

"But if it was someone else," Danny asked, "then where the hell is Freed?"

"It gets even more interesting," Chin added. "Amy says she picked up Serena, but we didn't find any calls between Amy's phone and Serena's. So, how did she know where and when to pick her up? So, I traced Amy Davidson's timeline. Guess what? It doesn't add up."

"Ah! She _was lying,"_ said Danny, feigning surprise. "Very shocking."

"Mm-hmm," Chin continued. "She says she picked up Serena Andrews from the Leaky Tiki Lounge at 9:15. But when I ran her credit cards, it turns out she was having drinks at another place called the Ocean Lounge."

"By herself?" Steve asked.

"She bought two rounds, two drinks each time," Chin replied.

"Who was she with?" asked Danny.

"Josh Lowry, congressman's press secretary," said Chin. "I already confirmed it with him. Lowry said they were having a strategy session. He also confirmed that they didn't leave the place together. According to a bartender I spoke to, she left with an unknown male companion."

"We need a positive ID on that companion," Steve declared.

"It's gonna be tough," Chin hesitated. "No security footage from the bar."

"Found an ATM camera across the street," Kono announced as she entered carrying a mini-DVD.

"Nice," Steve said.

As she pulled the video up on the view screen, she observed, "The only thing is, I don't think there's a clear shot of the exit."

"Not so nice," Danny sighed.

"Okay, easy," she said. "What it did give us was a shot of a police pulling someone over near the club entrance."

"Hmm," Danny muttered, quickly processing the implications. "Can we get a dashboard cam?"

"We have a dashboard cam," Kono confirmed, "and I have footage coming through right now."

Kono pulled the video up on one of the plasma screens for them all to review.

As she fast forwarded Steve stopped her, "That's Amy. Freeze, Kono. Freeze that. Can you push in?"

Kono worked the controls and Chin noted, "It looks like she's with someone." The image on the screen zoomed in as the digital image manipulation software sharpened the focus until the face became recognizable.

_Holy fuck._

For the second time that day, the word "wow" escaped from Danny's mouth before he could stop it. Steve stared, unable to take his eyes off the screen.

"Wo Fat," Kono gasped. "He's still on the island."

"What the hell is he doing with Amy?" Chin asked.

Steve knew the answer: "He's using Amy Davidson to set up Congressman Freed."

"Set up for what?" Kono asked.

"Think about it," Danny encouraged. "Who stands to gain if Congressman Freed takes a hard fall?"

"His opponent Brad Powers," said Kono, understanding.

"Wo Fat sees this Special Election as an opening," reasoned Chin. "He's on the run; he's got no resources. What better way to rebuild your empire than to buy a politician?"

"Right," Danny agreed. "By discrediting Freed, Powers definitely gets the Senate seat."

"And Wo Fat gets a friend in Washington," Kono concluded.

_See?_ Danny pointed out, "Quid pro quo."

Steve continued to stare at the screen, his jaw set sternly and a fierce, determined fire in his eyes. "Not on our watch," he declared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To me, one of the most fun parts of longer missing scene fics is trying to fill in the blanks, but staying true to what plays out on-screen, even if it sometimes doesn't make sense or is internally inconsistent. For this fic, one of the things that really had me spinning my wheels (and delayed Chapter 4) was trying to decide whether or not Freed was actually staying at the Kahala mansion.
> 
> I initially wrote a chunk of Chapter 4 assuming (A) he was never there. That would explain the complete lack of forensic evidence at the crime scene (despite Chin telling Webb that they have DNA that places him in the bed!...I assume he was bluffing). But in the end I decided that this was a really sucky set-up from Wo Fat's perspective – I expect more from a criminal mastermind. If Wo Fat (disguised as Freed) convinced Denning that he needed a place to stay, and Freed had never actually been there, there really would be nothing to tie him to the crime scene. Under oath, I'm sure Denning would say (honestly), "Yes, I told him he could stay there but I have no idea if he was actually there." Which would leave just Amy as corroborating evidence – and we all know how good she is at lying.
> 
> So, ultimately, I went with (B) Freed was actually staying at the mansion. This would make Denning legitimately concerned, leading to plausible suspicion from the Five-0 team. The unfortunately downside, I found while re-watching the middle scenes and writing this chapter, though, was a consistency error - Fong found no prints because the killer wore gloves. Oh well. I tried!
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me!


	6. I'm Not Your Babysitter (The Hideaway)

***** I'm Not Your Babysitter (The Hideaway) *****

"Oh, no, no, no, no," Danny shook his head vigorously and paced as he waved his hands between himself and Steve. He stopped in front of Steve, looked him in the eye and punctuated an emphatic "No!" with a karate chop before resuming his pacing.

"No? What no?" Steve asked, opening his arms with a bewildered look. "I haven't even said anything yet!"

"Yes, you have! You have that look!" Danny waved his hands vigorously in front of Steve's face. "That look that says you sense an enemy to be taken down. You're like an attack dog and someone has just smeared raw steak all over a time bomb and tossed it to you."

Chin raised an eyebrow and Kono politely looked away. They had both watched this scene play out dozens of times previously; all they needed now were a couple of beers and a bowl of popcorn to enjoy Danny's histrionics before Steve's logic – or at least his force of personality – prevailed, as it invariably did.

"Danny, you —" Steve tried to interject.

"I can see you salivating!" Danny persisted. "Forget the fact that we have a missing congressman and a murder victim to deal with. Noooo-o-o! _It's Wo Fat time!_ Let's break out the heavy artillery! Let's call the cavalry! Never mind, who needs them? It's a bird! It's a plane! It's Super SEAL!" Danny opened his arms in mock welcome.

"I haven't forgotten about Serena. Or Freed," Steve said calmly.

"Aw come _on,_ Steve! You couldn't even stay at my court hearing for 20 minutes without running off because Denning called. Are you really telling me that given a choice between capturing Wo Fat and anything else – and I mean _anything_ else, like, say, the _case_ that Governor Denning hauled your ass in for in the first place – that you'd actually drop Wo Fat like a hot potato?"

Since a quick, witty and confident reply did not come immediately, all eyes turned to await Steve's reply. Steve took a moment to word his response, and hoped he sounded rational without being condescending.

Danny had circled the room to face him again and now stood in Steve's personal space with his arms crossed, his eyes looking up, searching for answers. "Listen to me, Danny," Steve said. "I don't believe in coincidences. Amy Davidson leaves a bar last night at the same time as Wo Fat and two hours later we have a dead hooker and a missing congressman? That's just too convenient. Wo Fat's pulling the strings here, Danny. So right now, like it or not, Wo Fat is by far our best bet for finding the congressman and Serena's killer."

Steve turned around and took a step back. Danny released his arms and placed one on his hip, raising the second hand to speak before Steve turned back and cut him off. "Don't get me wrong. If we happen to nail that son of a bitch's ass to the wall while we're at it, you won't see me shedding any tears."

It was Danny's turn to think about his response – especially as he knew in his heart that Steve was right. He shook his head in frustration. _God damn it. Why couldn't this have been a simple murder investigation? Or even a straightforward missing persons case? Why did it have to be Wo Fat? Why did it have to be Wo Fat today? Because it's always Wo Fat and he's a goddamned cockroach. And because we're Five-0 and he's our problem. Fucking son of a bitch._

"Okay, you win," Danny finally caved in. He leaned forwards on the computer table and asked, "So, what's the plan?"

Steve began barking out orders. "Wo Fat's not a love 'em and leave 'em kind of guy. If he got to Amy, he'll have been in touch to make sure she's sticking to the script.

"Kono, dig deeper into Amy Davidson. We can't alert Wo Fat that we're onto him. Wo Fat may be keeping an eye on Amy, so we can't toss her house, but we can do some work behind the scenes. But have HPD dump her financials; go back and interview the bar staff at the Ocean Lounge; and talk to the campaign staff. See if you can find any patterns of odd behavior. I want to know every person she's talked to and where she's been for the last 48 hours. We need to know how deep into it she is, how long she's been involved, and if she knows where Freed is.

"Chin, take a closer look at our friend Brad Powers – his personal finances, phone records, campaign contributions, any recent changes in public positions, known acquaintances, odd hang-outs – anything that can connect him to Wo Fat. And I know what the answer is already, but make sure to check with the staff at the Ocean View and see if can confirm if Wo Fat is the guy Amy left with.

"Danny and I are gonna have another face-to-face with Amy Davidson."

"What makes you think she's going to give up anything new this time," Danny challenged as they speed-walked out to the car. "She lied to us before with a straight face. She gets _paid_ to make up stuff. If she's in Wo Fat's pocket, she'd sell her mother out to save her ass."

"I think Wo Fat offered her a bigger paycheck, to lie to make Freed look bad," Steve theorized. "If she did it for the money, Kono will be able to prove that soon enough. If she's in it for something else, that's up to us to figure out."

Tones from an Irish pop boy band once again emerged from Danny's pocket. The tune continued much longer than necessary for Danny to fish out the phone and he stared at it trying to figure out what else he could possibly say.

Steve looked over and saw Danny just staring at the wallpaper picture of Grace on his phone. "What're you gonna tell her," he asked, concerned.

"I dunno," Danny replied, pinching his brow. He rubbed his forehead and took a deep breath before answering with as much enthusiasm as he could muster, "Monkey!...Hey, honey…No, still no news…No, I'm sure it's nothing. The judge said she might not make a decision until tomorrow…Don't worry…Everything's gonna be fine…I know…I know…"

Steve watched Danny's body language as he listened. Danny shifted anxiously in his seat, almost thrashing in the confines of his seat belt. Steve could recognize his partner's frustration at being powerless. Being trapped in a car – unable to pace and flail freely. Pursuing what he clearly perceived to be a wild goose chase wasn't helping matters any.

"…That was different," Danny continued into his phone, looking increasingly uncomfortable. "I know...I know I said I'd be there, but something came up. Something _really_ important and I had to..." Danny looked over at Steve and couldn't get himself to throw Steve under the bus. He had let his work and duty consume him to the point that he forgot he had a plane to catch. But truth is, he _could_ have remembered; he could have made that flight, though lord knows he wouldn't have felt any better knowing that Steve was being carted off to jail while he enjoyed the movie service on the redeye to Newark.

Steve recognized the reference and instantly felt a pang of guilt. He focused on the road, checking the driver's side mirror a bit more frequently than necessary, his brow furrowed in concentration.

Danny sighed deeply, knowing that there was nothing he could say that would reassure Grace. "It's not gonna happen again," he tried. "I promise you." He ran his free hand through his hair and glanced awkwardly again at Steve, who continued to try to avoid eye contact.

"Listen, I know this is really bad timing, but I gotta go now...I know. But don't forget: Danno loves you, baby...Me too." Danny let the phone drop in his lap and stared at it for a moment before pressing the End button. He leaned his forehead in his palm, elbow on the window, and stared out the window as street lights changed from yellow to red. A bike messenger rode by at breakneck speed, wearing a floral print racing shirt with his black biker shorts. _Damn. They can even make cycling jerseys look hideous._

"How's she holding up?" Steve asked.

"How do you _think_ she's holding up?" Danny snapped. "She's scared. Scared that she's gonna have to move to some place where she has no friends. Where she's gonna have to start over _again_. And she's worried, Steve. She's worried that I won't be there because..." Danny let his words trailed off and both filled in the missing words. _Because I let her down before. I missed that plane to Jersey and I let them leave without me._

"How're _you_ holding up?" Steve added cautiously.

"I'm scared too, Steve," Danny admitted quietly, his voice cracking under the strain.

Steve recognized the outright freaked-out, ready-to-beg-for-mercy, praying-to-god-scared tone in Danny's voice. He had heard it when Danny ran past after shooting Stan, desperately hoping to get Peterson to give up the location where he was holding Gracie. He had seen it in Danny's eyes when an unexpected exposure to sarin gas left him struggling to breathe. And Steve had seen that fear again most recently when Danny accidentally activated the proximity sensor on the bomb strapped to the suspect they'd been chasing, leaving him quite literally paralyzed, for fear of setting of the darned thing.

But as terrifying as these experiences had been – for Steve vicariously, as much as for Danny first-hand – they'd all been mercifully short ordeals. Steve knew it wouldn't have taken much more of a miniscule change in circumstances for any of these occasions to have ended even sooner – with much more tragic circumstances.

Thankfully, none on these tribulations had lasted as long as today's agonizing, seemingly interminable wait. The most similar situation that came to mind, Steve recalled, was the afternoon the two of them had been stranded off-shore in a leaking dinghy.

Their plight had started with the disorienting boat-jacking that left them stranded. As Danny did a slow 360-degree survey of the horizon – and failed to spy any signs of life, watercraft, or terra firma – he had felt just as he had this very morning, when Hurricane McGarrett blew through Judge Karen Hidoko's courtroom. He felt lost at sea, figuratively, if not literally – and the thought scared the bejeesus out of him.

Steve's reassurances that even a completely deflated dinghy would likely still float and be visible from the air, were met by deaf ears, just as Martin Akina's observations on Rachel's absence and Danny's testimony had provided weak comfort this morning. Danny's hydrophobia was understandable – on top of the haunting memories of Billy Selway's death, he let slip that he'd let Kono talk him into renting _Open Water_.

Minutes turned to hours, as they waited out the sharks. They took turns bailing and scanning the stubbornly vacant seas, alternatingly bickering and talking, with Danny opening up about his fears, and Steve trying his best to allay them. But as the sun arced lower in the sky, Steve realized that Danny's greatest fear was not of becoming man-sushi – it was the fear that he might die without saying goodbye to Grace, without one last chance to make sure that little girl knew how much she was loved.

Steve was accustomed to reassuring victims there was nothing to fear, that his team would clear the area, that they would get the bad guys, that they would return missing loved ones, that they would take care of things. But Steve hated hearing the fear in Danny's voice – just as he had that morning at sea – especially knowing there was nothing else he could do to help. The realization made the dry toast he'd wolfed down for breakfast feel like loco moco gone bad. And knowing that part of the fear was because Danny had betrayed Grace's trust, because of him, made things all the worse.

"I'm sorry, Danny," Steve said softly.

"Yeah," Danny said morosely. "I'm sorry, too. Rachel's sorry. Stan's sorry. We're all sorry, aren't we?"

"No, really, Danny, I'm sorry…because it's my fault."

"Look, I understand that you were only trying to help this morning," Danny said. "I may not like the way you went about it, and I would have done it with a little more finesse and without the cell phone interruption, but I get it. So we're good."

"No, listen to me. I feel bad that I wasn't all prim and proper this morning in the courtroom, but that's not what I'm talking about," Steve corrected. Danny turned to look at him quizzically. Steve continued, "I'm sorry that you had to pick between Rachel and Grace…and me. I'm sorry I made you miss your plane..."

"Well, you were kinda screwed," Danny joked humorlessly. "You needed me."

"I did," Steve admitted. "And you were there for me, Danno. And I swear, I'll be there for you, too. No matter what happens, I'm gonna do everything I can to help make this right."

"Thank you," Danny said quietly, adding sadly, "but I don't know what anyone can do at this point."

Steve glanced over and caught Danny's eye, but he couldn't think of anything to say, so he just nodded encouragingly and turned back to face the road. A jumble of words passed through his head, but everything sounded like an empty platitude, even to his own ears, so the two drove on in silence.

In his head, Danny played through scenarios of how he could break the bad news to Grace. _Listen, Monkey, you know that I always love you…Yeah, you and me, kid, we'll take on Vegas…Those Nevada types can't be any weirder than the folks here…They may not have Aloha Girls, but I bet there are Girl Scouts, or something…_

Danny's phone rang, interrupting his thoughts. He glanced at the caller ID and cleared his throat before answering and putting the phone on speaker. "Go ahead Kono, you're on speaker."

"Okay, we sent photos over to the staff at the Ocean View," Kono reported. "The waitress on duty recalls Wo Fat buying a drink for Amy. She says Amy looked pleasantly surprised, like she didn't know him and thought it was a pick-up."

"We also went back through two months of Amy's call history, all phones, including the campaign offices," Chin added. "No calls to Wo Fat or known associates. But, we did find calls to that same disposable phone. But get this – they were all made after 10:00 p.m. last night. The burner's is off the grid right now, but we'll keep pinging it."

"HPD's forensic accountants haven't had much time, but they were able to pull Amy's bank records. No signs of unusual activity, so far," Kono reported. "They're gonna need a little more time to chase down any off-shore accounts and the campaign's finances. But right now, there's no obvious connection, aside from the bar video."

"So Wo Fat only got to Amy last night?" Steve asked.

"Well, Powers has been making headway," said Danny, psyching himself back into detective-mode, "but Freed still has a slim lead. Election's only two weeks away. Maybe whatever Wo Fat's been doing behind the scenes hasn't been good enough to get Powers elected…."

"…so Wo Fat needs to kick it up a notch. So he puts in a Plan B: kidnap Freed, frame him for a murder…" Steve continued.

"….then get Amy to cover from the inside, plant a few breadcrumbs to lead us down the right path," Danny concluded.

"Nice work," Steve said. "Keep on it. We'll see what we can get from Amy and we'll keep you posted."

"Right, boss," Kono said.

"So if it's not money..." Danny began.

"...Maybe it's some kind of non-financial reward," Steve suggested.

"Reward?" Danny asked. "What kind of reward?"

"I dunno," Steve said. "Maybe an appointment? A job? After all, she's going to be out of one in two weeks either way."

"She's Freed's campaign manager," Danny reminded Steve. "She can't take a job in Powers's staff. People will ask questions."

"Okay," Steve conceded. "Scratch that. Maybe a position in Wo Fat's organization?"

Danny shook his head. "Wo Fat's gotta be holding something over her."

"Okay, that _is_ his MO," Steve agreed. "Maybe blackmail? Threats?"

Danny shrugged and sent a text back to Chin. _Check Amy's family and make sure they're secure._

"So are we going in assuming she's willingly in bed with Wo Fat, or do we believe she could be a victim here?" Danny asked.

Steve put the car in park and got out. "I say we ask her for the truth. If she's a victim, we can help. If she's not…"

"…what're you, going to hang her off the side of a building? She's in a first-floor office. Throw her in a shark tank? Wait, these political types swim with sharks all the time. Maybe you could just write a nasty blog entry about her…"

"Danny, let's go," Steve cut him off.

Steve stalked out of the car with Danny following closely on his heels. Without waiting to be ushered in, they barged into Amy's office with Steve demanding, "Where is he?"

"Excuse me?" Amy asked, standing up in outrage.

"Wo Fat," Steve insisted. "Where is he? We know you left the bar with him."

"Okay, you need to leave," she said, her voice cracking at the mention of Wo Fat's name.

"I don't think you understand who you're dealing with," Steve persisted.

"No," she held her ground, looking unsure of what to do. "I said, you need to leave."

"Everything you've said up to this has been a lie, all right? The congressman, the prostitutes. You bringing 'em to him. All of it," Danny argued.

Amy's voice became increasingly agitated. "Okay, I can't talk to you guys about this right now."

"Get this through your head," Steve pressed. "If Freed's not dead already, Wo Fat _will_ kill him. You understand what I'm saying?"

"You can stop this," Danny gently urged. "You can stop _all_ of this, but you have to start talking to us." He paused to see if his words had had the desired effect before asking, "Where is Congressman Freed, huh?"

"Where is he, Amy?" Steve echoed, impatiently.

Amy swallowed nervously and looked out the window before she began unbuttoning her blouse.

"What are you doing?" Danny asked, baffled.

Both men stared, stunned as Amy held up her finger to mime the universal "shh!" sign while she continued to undo the buttons on her blouse.

"Don't shush me," Danny insisted. "What are you doing?" He turned to Steve and gave him a perplexed look that screamed, _what the fuck is she doing?_

Steve shrugged and wordlessly responded, _Hell if I know!_

Amy desperately placed a finger to her lips again, and then held it out, asking for a moment's patience as she silently begged them not to say anything else. By the time she had revealed the center of her bra, she held open her blouse for them to see – a wire was clearly poking up through the middle.

_Oh, shit,_ thought Danny, pacing nervously, _she's wearing a wire._

_She's wearing a wire, and we didn't put it there…_ thought Steve.

… _so, whoever's listening in is going to be wondering why there's sudden silence just as the cops showed up_ , thought Danny.

Both men watched in horror as she fished the wire out from under her bra.

_No, no, no, no!_ _Don't do that!_ Danny thought, but before he was able to warn her, she dropped it on the floor and crushed it with her shoe.

With the mic crushed and feeling safer than she had all day, Amy sighed deeply and spoke tearfully. "I'm sorry," she said remorsefully. "I did it because he said he was gonna kill me."

_Shit, that means whoever's listening knows she's been made_ , Steve thought. _We don't have much time._ "Listen to me," Steve said, "where is he keeping the congressman hostage?"

"I don't know," she replied nervously.

"Amy," Steve began, instinctively looking out the window to survey the surroundings. A glint of light from the multi-story garage across the street caught Steve's attention. "Get down, Amy! Get down!" he yelled. But even as he dove to take her out of the line of fire, a bullet screamed through the window, hitting Amy squarely in the forehead.

Danny ducked by the side of the window and scanned for signs of the shooter. "I don't see him, Steve" he looked over at Steve who had been checking Amy's pulse. Blood slowly trickled from the neat round hole in her head. Steve looked up and shook his head grimly.

As panicked staffers ran from the building, Steve and Danny emerged from the campaign offices, sidearms at the ready. "Get down! Everybody, get down!" Steve commanded. They quickly, but carefully, made their way on foot across the largely exposed street, taking cover as they could.

From the building across the street, a dark sedan barreled out the exit, bursting through the still-closed barrier. As the car race at them head-on, Steve and Danny pulled up short and began shooting, making several direct hits through the driver's side of the windshield. The driver lost control of the car and it continued straight at Steve and Danny, forcing them to dive out of the way; it finally came to a stop after swerving into a parked car.

Danny picked himself up off the ground and warily opened the passenger door to find the passenger side empty. Meanwhile Steve opened the driver's door to find their suspect sitting motionless, with blood oozing from his temple. Steve checked his neck for a pulse and confirmed his fear.

"There goes our lead to Wo Fat," Steve noted unhappily.

"You mean the congressman, right?" Danny corrected. He nodded to the Steyr SSG PIV sitting in the passenger seat of the car and turned to Steve, saying, "Well, at least we know we didn't shoot an innocent civilian who happened to be running late for a dinner date."

"Very funny, Danny," Steve replied humorlessly.

Just then, a cell phone began ringing. "What is that?" Steve asked. He glanced into the car where the sniper's phone lay on the center console. "Wo Fat!" he assumed.

Danny leaned in to glance at the caller ID as he pulled out his own phone: Private Number. "Hey, Chin," he said, "we need a trace right away. Someone is calling the sniper who just shot Amy Davidson. He's about two feet away from me. Good money says the call's coming from our unknown burn phone."

"Working on it," Chin said, activating the trace. His fingers flew across the touchscreen, and a progress indicator appeared. "Forty-percent, fifty, sixty…" he counted.

Danny put the phone in speaker and placed it on the middle of the sedan's roof. "Eighty-five, ninety, ninety-five…."

He glanced anxiously at Steve who kept his eye on the ringing phone. "Come on, Wo Fat," he whispered to himself. "Keep trying, you son of a bitch. Just a little longer…"

"Almost there," Chin updated.

"Come on..." Steve urged.

Danny tapped on the car roof to get Steve's attention, then he pointed to Steve, mimed a phone conversation and motioned for him to send his over. Steve frowned questioningly, and held his hands out, silently asking _What for?_

Danny put his hands on his hips and looked away for a moment, kicking the dirt and questioning his own sanity, before he turned back to Steve and motioned more insistently, _Would you just hand it over?_

Still confused, Steve tossed the phone over the car nevertheless. Danny caught it mid-flight and and stepped away to place another call.

"Got it!" Chin exclaimed. "The signal's coming from the middle of nowhere, near Sacred Falls. Kono's trying to get you coordinates now."

After a few moments, Kono added, "Just sent you the coordinates. Satellite feed's coming in…Zooming in…Got it. The signal's coming from a remote cabin. Looks like it might be an abandoned hunting shelter or something. But it's at least five, ten miles from the nearest service road, and that's probably another ten miles off the nearest paved road. It's not gonna be easy to get to."

"All right," Steve replied. "Good work, Kono, Chin. Alert HPD and tell them to get a full SWAT team out there anyways. Let them know it's probably Wo Fat and he will be armed and dangerous. There's a good chance he's got the congressman hostage, so make sure they proceed with extreme caution."

"On it," Chin answered, pulling out his phone and walking into his office to make the call.

"Sending you coordinates right now," Kono offered. "Anything else you want me to do, boss?"

"Send HPD over to Freed's headquarters and get yourself and Chin over here. We have two crime scenes to process. Amy Davidson is dead in her office and the guy who shot her is bleeding out in a black sedan crashed across the street." Steve explained. "If Wo Fat doesn't have Freed in that cabin, we're gonna need another lead to find him. With Amy and the shooter dead, Wo Fat's gotta be getting desperate fast…"

"Right," Kono confirmed. "And what about you?" she asked, already knowing the likely answer.

"Since our buddy the shooter here didn't answer his phone," Steve replied, it won't take a rocket scientist to figure out that the cat's out of the bag. Wo Fat's no idiot so we haven't got much time before he's on the move, or making ready to cut his losses. I'm going after Wo Fat." Steve slid Danny's phone back across the car roof and began sprinting towards Danny's Camaro.

"I _knew_ you were going to say that," Danny muttered, grabbing the phone and reluctantly jogging after him.

"Call the airfield —"

" Steve began before Danny interrupted.

"No!" Danny shouted back. "I'm not gonna do that."

"It's Wo Fat, Danny! What the hell is your problem?" Steve yelled in frustration. He pulled out the keys and wrenched open the door, throwing himself into the driver's seat as Danny clambered into the passenger side. He reached into his pocket to place the call himself and was momentarily surprised to find it missing.

"I've already called the Aerial Unit," Danny replied, nudging Steve in the shoulder with his phone. Steve looked at him in surprise and took his phone back. "They've got a helicopter on standby for us," Danny continued. As soon as was clear they were likely to get a location lock on the caller, Danny knew Steve's full well his plans for himsel. So he had placed the call and had begun mentally steeling himself for the upcoming adventures.

"Us? Danny, Kono and Chin will be here any minute. They're gonna need your help processing the scenes. You can bring them up to speed on what happened."

"I'm coming with _you_. You need me more."

Steve paused and turned to his side before starting the car. "Danny, you don't have to do this."

"Yes, I do," said Danny, with conviction.

"You hate flying with me," Steve said. As he waited for the car to start, his brain caught up with the words coming out of Danny's mouth, and he registered just how far ahead Danny had thought. He pocketed the phone and put the car in gear, waiting to hear Danny's response, just in case he wanted to change his mind and get out.

"I do. I _detest_ flying with you. On most days, I would rather have my eyeballs poked out with a firebrand than fly with you," Danny replied.

"Then why are you coming?" Steve asked

"Freed's a single dad with a daughter, so he's all she's got," Danny explained. "I don't want to be the one to have to tell her that Five-0 lost him because we didn't give it all we had."

"Okay, Danny," Steve said. "If you're sure." He put the car in gear, flipped on the lights and siren, and began racing towards the heliport.

"I'm sure," Danny replied. "Besides, if you fly us into the Ko'olaus, it'll save me the trouble of throwing myself off the cliff if the judge rules against me."

Steve, "Not funny."

"Aw, come on, Steve," Danny argued. "I know you and your Wo Fat fixation. You need me there to save you from yourself."

Steve took his eyes off the road to glance at Danny before replying, "There's a SWAT team on the way. I do not need a babysitter."

"I'm not your babysitter, babe," Danny insisted. "I'm your partner. And you need me to watch your back."

Steve swerved onto the sidewalk to avoid two lanes of traffic backed up behind a pedestrian. Danny held on for dear life as Steve hit the accelerator, sped past a line of traffic, and then hopped back off the curb and onto the road again. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!" yelled Danny. "Getting to the heliport in one piece is a necessary condition to going after Wo Fat!"

"I know what I'm doing," Steve said, frowning at the traffic impeding his progress. His eyes panned along the sides of the street looking for an alternative route. "We're gonna have no problem getting to the heliport, and if Wo Fat is on the other end of that phone, we are going to find him. We have back up on the way, and we're gonna get him and bring the congressman home to his daughter."

"And since when have you ever waited for the SWAT team, huh?" Danny accused. Steve squinched his face into an even sterner grimace; he hated when Danny was right.

"You're making that face again!" Danny added. "That face that says you are going in with or without backup even though only an absolute idiot would do so, and that you have absolutely no intention of letting anyone get Wo Fat other than _you_."

"My face says all that?" Steve demanded.

"Loud and clear," Danny replied.

Steve put both hands on the steering wheel and turned to glare at Danny. "Now what's it say?"

"That I better hold on even tighter," Danny spluttered; he grabbed the strap over his head with his right hand and braced himself with his left hand on the dashboard, as Steve hit the accelerator.

Steve ran through three red lights before encountering traffic backed up on Queen Street. Spying no obvious way to break through the gridlock, he backed onto Halekauwila and drove the wrong way for several blocks up the one-way sectionuntil he finally spied an opening allowing him to make his way onto the Nimitz Highway.

Once clear of city traffic, Steve completed the rest of the short journey in triple time, screeching onto the tarmac at the air strip. He and Danny raced out of the car, each grabbing a large gear duffel out of the trunk, then sprinting full-speed towards the waiting helicopter.

Steve climbed into the pilot seat, donning his headset; he went through his pre-flight checklist, plotting his destination as quickly as he could manage. Danny, meanwhile, tossed the gear bags into the cabin before him, hopped in and grabbed his own headset. As Steve finished his final checks, Danny tossed him a vest and strapped himself into his own. Steve untangled the vest and managed to get his arms pulled through and buckled himself in as he received final instructions from air traffic control. The ground crew gave them a thumbs-up clear signal, and Steve lifted off.

"ETA's just over ten minutes," Steve shouted over the noise of the rotors. Below them, crowded city streets quickly gave way to lush green landscapes as they made their way north over the island. Steve easily identified the Sacred Falls park lands from a distance and began scanning the horizon for the most inconspicuous approach.

Danny allowed himself just a moment to think about Grace. For the first time, he was glad that the judge's verdict had yet to come in. At least that way, their conversation had ended with a routine exchange of "I love you's," rather than a feeble, "Don't worry, the judge's verdict doesn't change anything."

_I'll always be there for you, Monkey,_ Danny whispered towards the fading cityscape, then he forced himself to clear his mind to concentrate on the task at hand. The last thing he wanted to do was to accidentally put a bullet through the helo's key systems - or through Steve, as tempting as that thought might be - or to run out of ammo mid-firefight because he had been daydreaming. He double-checked his safety tether then dug into the gear bag for his MP5K, methodically assembling and readying his weapon, inventorying his ammo, and laying out everything he would need within arm's reach.

Steve pushed a button on the dashboard and he waited for the response. "Kono," he barked into his mic, "I need you to be my eyes. Tell me you got something for me."

"Yeah, boss," Kono replied. "Forest is pretty dense outside Wo Fat's little hideaway, but we've got some thermals coming in. Cabin's empty, but there are three heat signatures in the immediate vicinity. One's not moving."

"Freed?" Danny asked anxiously.

"Can't tell," Kono replied. "Two are moving rapidly through the forest – looks like one's on foot and another's in pursuit and gaining. He may be on a vehicle of some kind.

"Maybe Freed got away," Steve suggested optimistically, "And Wo Fat's after him."

"Maybe," Kono concurred, "but it's hard to tell…Wait, I've got a visual. Freed just emerged from the forest. He's alive!"

"Nice!" Danny said, allowing himself a breath of relief.

"ETA in two minutes, Danny," Steve called from the cockpit. "You ready?" Steve turned around to confirm for himself, and Danny replied by nodding and giving him a thumbs up.

"Freed's coming out of the woods heading westbound on foot, towards the west ridge," said Kono. "But you better hurry. Freed's running out of room fast and Wo Fat's in pursuit on a red ATV – and he's armed with a rifle."

"Copy that," Steve said, accelerating and adjusting his heading slightly west.

"You ready for this?" Steve asked.

"Hell, yeah," Danny said, feeling the adrenalin starting to kick in and fuel his

He might not be able to do anything to keep Gracie with him, but he'd be damned if he let Wo Fat leave Freed's daughter fatherless. "Freed's alive and Katie needs him," Danny yelled towards the cockpit. "Bring it on, bitch."

"Oh shit! You guys better step on it!" Kono yelled, "Freed's been hit! And he's on the ground moving at a snail's pace."

Danny checked his harness and edged towards the cabin opening, bracing himself as they approached the ridge.

"You're almost on top of them..." Kono warned.

"Ready?" Steve called.

"Go, go, go!" Danny hollered.

Steve brought the helicopter up over the ridge. Though they approached from the blind side, the sound of their rotor blades would have been hard for anyone to miss in remote the wilderness.

As the helicopter emerged over the crest of the ridge, they visually scanned the small field at the edge of the forest.

"Got him!" both men yelled simultaneously. Danny found Chris Freed backing his way perilously close to the edge of a steep drop, while Steve locked eyes with Wo Fat, who had stopped the ATV and was standing a few feet back. Wo Fat had cocked his rifle and was aiming to shoot, but the sound of the helo caught his attention and he took his eyes off his target.

The moment of distraction was all Danny needed. While Wo Fat was looking up at Steve, Danny opened fire, forcing Wo Fat to sprint for cover behind his vehicle. Danny kept up the barrage, keeping Wo Fat at bay. As Steve edged closer, Danny tried to figure out how they were going to get Freed on board; he could see that the congressman was favoring his right leg, and a dark, blood-red spot stained his left shoulder. "Get lower to the ground!" shouted Danny.

As a combat veteran, Freed didn't need a staff briefing to figure out that the cavalry had arrived. He lumbered to his feet, waving with his good arm for them to come closer. The helicopter lowered perilously close to the edge of the cliff as Steve carefully made his approach.

Danny watched as Wo Fat disappeared behind the ATV again. When he didn't reappear, Danny deduced that he must be reloading. Sensing a brief opening, Danny lowered his weapon and tipped it to the side, hollering to Steve, "Come on, come on. Go closer!"

Steve edged closer then held steady; as soon as they were close enough for Freed to reach up, Danny leaned out and extended his hand, bracing a foot against the skids. He kept a watchful eye out for Wo Fat who would no doubt soon notice the lack of cover fire.

Freed, too was well aware that each moment that passed with Danny's rifle lying on its side put them all at risk. He reached up his good arm and grabbed Danny's hand, warily taking a giant step onto the helicopter's wavering skids. He leveraged himself against Danny's foot and did his best to hoist himself high enough up so his center of gravity cleared the base of the cabin.

"Grab his leg!" Steve yelled. His eyes darted between Wo Fat, the rocky edge of the cliff, and the congressman, who teetered unsteadily along the helo's skids. "Come on!" he yelled, willing them to get Freed secured.

With Danny focused on pulling Freed aboard, Wo Fat was able to finish reloading; he began returning fire, giving Freed even more incentive to speed things up. Freed scrambled upright and leaned into the helicopter's belly. As he went to take a seat, another shot rang out, hitting the vest-free congressman in the shoulder, sending him reeling into the helicopter's cabin. With Freed collapsed on the floor of the cabin, though in questionable shape, Danny picked up his assault rifle and returned fire. "He's hit!" he yelled to Steve. "Let's go! Come on!"

"How bad is it?" Steve asked.

_How bad is it?_ Danny thought. _What the hell kind of stupid question is that?_ "Bad!" he replied. "We need a hospital, _right now_! Go!"

"It's Wo Fat, Danny!" Steve cried.

"Forget it!" Danny yelled. "Let's go! Forget it!"

Steve reluctantly, robotically moved the helicopter out of firing range but his eyes remained fixated on Wo Fat who fired a few more futile rounds at the retreating metal shell.

"Let's go!" Danny insisted. "Come on! Come on!"

Steve turned them around and began heading towards Honolulu. "Fuck!" he yelled, banging his fist in frustration against the window frame beside of him.

Danny watched him with concern. When he was finally convinced they wouldn't turn back for any last-minute heroics, he backed his way fully into the cabin, engaging the safety on his gun and setting it aside. He looked to his left and saw the congressman shifting uncomfortably on his side. Danny removed his vest and spread it on the ground as cushioning. He leaned down and yelled over the helo's noise, "Sorry, buddy, but this is gonna hurt a bit," before pulling Freed the rest of the way into the helicopter and laying him down flat. Danny rummaged through the gear bag for first aid supplies and added, "Come on, sir, just hang in there a few more minutes. We're almost at the hospital."

"Thanks," Freed smiled weakly, before closing his eyes to rest.

When Steve was sure they were safely on course for Honolulu, he turned back, afraid what he might find. "Hey, Danny…" he shouted over the noise.

Danny looked up to see Steve's worried face. He nodded reassuringly and gave Steve a thumbs up to let him know it looked like Freed would make it.

Steve opened a comm link and spoke, "King's Medical, this is Lieutenant Commander Steve McGarrett, Five-0. I've got Congressman Christopher Freed on board. He has multiple GSWs. We're coming in by air and we'll need a trauma team to meet us at the helipad. ETA less than fifteen minutes...Roger that."

Steve glanced back again, his eyes conveying a silent _thank you._

_You're welcome,_ Danny wordlessly replied to the sound of the helo's rhythmic beat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am a natural subscriber to Bellisario's Maxim (which TV Tropes defines as "An unashamed admission of hand-waving details unnecessary to the enjoyment of a show, and an exhortation to not let the obsession with those details get in the way of the story." I naturally suspend belief in favor of enjoying the show.
> 
> So, while trying to fill out Steve and Danny's day, I was amazed at how many details I overlooked while watching this episode (many, many times, even). For example, the fact that no one from Five-0 ever went to the crime scene. Or that there were obvious clues that they had to have known that would make it obvious that it couldn't have been the congressman. Or that there were way too many scenes and locales to fit into a day, yet there also wasn't enough on-screen material to explain what these guys were actually doing when off-screen. Even simple stuff like – how did they trace the cell phone that was calling the sniper without a number (the Caller ID actually shows it as unidentified).


	7. Where's Waldo? (Airborne)

***** Where's Waldo? (Airborne) *****

As they continued on their return journey, Steve maintained his focus on the view outside his front window – as experienced a pilot as he was, he still needed to stay alert to keep the helicopter upright and on course. But a part of him continued to mentally kick himself and ponder "what ifs." _How the fuck did we lose Wo Fat again? We should have been able to save Freed_ and _get Wo Fat. What could we have done differently? Maybe if we'd arrested Amy, we could have forced his hand sooner? Maybe…_ A dozen scenarios played in the back of his mind, even while he kept his eyes on the air space and cockpit controls in front of him.

Meanwhile, Danny had managed to stem the bleeding from Freed's shoulder with a make-shift tourniquet. Once Freed lay back, uncomfortable, but resting, Danny leaned his head against the cold metal hull, sighed deeply, and shut his eyes. With the adrenalin from the gun fight subsiding, he became intensely aware of how emotionally drained he was. He only re-opened his eyes when the congressman shifted and moaned softly before drifting back to sleep.

Danny – who remained bewildered at Kamekona's unfaltering enthusiasm for his latest entrepreneurial venture – to this day had never felt the urge to enjoy the scenery from the inside of a flying bubble – especially one without side walls or doors. His not-nearly-infrequent-enough flying adventures with Steve tended to require complete focus on the outbound leg, while being spoiled by stress and utter exhaustion on the return.

But on this occasion, despite being doubly weary from both the rescue mission and the weight of a day's worry, Danny found himself sitting upright to peer out the unobstructed side of the cabin.

Looking back out and to his left, Danny spied a section of the Kamehameha Highway he associated with some of the worst tasting food he could remember. Soon after he had joined HPD, Meka had givn up on trying to get Danny out on a surfboard. So instead, one Sunday, Meka had hauled him into his Jeep Wrangler and taken them for a scenic drive on the Kam. They'd stopped at his aunt's restaurant where they were served organic acai bowls and boiled peanuts. Afterwards, Danny had demanded that Meka take him to the best pizza in Honolulu – both as penance, and to mask the lingering aftertaste.

Though the pizza had left much to be desired, its bowling alley home gave birth to a biweekly decompression session for the new partners. Danny had welcomed the excuse to get out of his apartment, but had to insist they get two lanes – Meka was such a bad bowler, he used bumpers… and no self-respecting cop from Jersey could be seen bowling with bumpers.

Further south on the Windward Coast, Danny looked down and saw the distinctive curved roofs and red bridges at the Valley of the Temples. Gabby had dragged him there one afternoon and sweet-talked him into ringing the sacred bell. Danny had raised his eyebrows skeptically when she explained that ringing the bell was said to bring happiness and long life, but actually burst out laughing when she added that ringing the bell would "purify the mind of evil spirits and temptation."

Each time he thought about it, he was overtaken by what could fairly be described as a mild case of giggles, each of which was met by a glare from the memorial's staff and other visitors. It took him three tries before he was able to hold a straight face long enough to approach the three-ton bell; he had forced himself to focus on Gabby's instructions as she put one hand around his waist, and the other on his arm to guide him as they pulled back and released the giant wooden log used to sound the bell. He had looked back to see her smiling warmly at him and found himself grinning back like a Cheshire cat.

Looking forward, Danny saw Steve frowning at the landscape in the distance, as if he were trying to defeat it in a stare-down. Behind his partner's silhouette, the windshield was again filled with the blue sky and lush green forests that had been passed unnoticed on their northbound journey less than an hour earlier.

Danny recognized the trail that he'd hiked – rather jogged up – trailing behind Steve who had kept up a pace better suited to a mini (all-uphill) marathon than a leisurely nature stroll. They'd shared memories of favorite father/son adventures, childhood heroes, teenage girlfriends, and worst drinking experiences before they finally made it to the petroglyphs Steve had wanted to show him. Though he'd been horrified when Steve was hit in the face a boulder after rappelling off the trail to check on an unexpected corpse, to this day, Danny still couldn't help feeling amused when recalling the goofy grin Steve had on his face when, with tongue firmly planted in cheek, Danny had pointed to himself, mimed a heart, and then pointed to Steve. Nor had he quite forgiven Steve for subsequently sticking him with the task of digging through a crate full of fish – using the broken arm suffered as a result of said boulder as a convenient excuse to avoid the slimy, smelly undertaking.

As they approached the crest of the Ko'olau Mountains, Danny could see the sapphire-hued deep waters peeking out from behind the sweeping green vistas. The forestlands and mountains they passed soon gave way to Waikiki's aquamarine lagoons and creamy sand shoreline. The Technicolor landscape assaulted his senses in a way the comforting and ubiquitous grey of Weehawken's narrow asphalt lanes, concrete front yards, and closely-set putty-colored homes never did.

Though Las Vegas promised to mimic the manufactured blandness of Jersey's landscape, the surrounding desert reminded Danny of a beach from hell – endless expanses of sand with no surfing, no margaritas, and no swimsuit calendar photo shoots. Even three time zones wouldn't buy him any chances to see the Yankees or Jets – short of watching them play on the Jumbotron at a sports book. Danny tried to remind himself that even Vegas with Grace was better than anywhere without her.

Danny checked his harness and cynically leaned forward in his seat, cantilevering out the opening and wondering how painful death by freefalling from a helicopter would be. _It's a freaking long way down._ He looked up at Steve and backed away from the opening, hastily shifting back in his seat. Danny looked towards the cockpit and shook his head in bemusement. _I can't believe he friggin' jumps out of airplanes like most people jump into swimming pools._

As they passed the foothills, the drab, angular landscape of urban Honolulu soon took the place of the idyllic wildlands. Danny readily recognized the Aloha Stadium, where Chin and Steve had explained the finer points of shotgun versus spread formations to Grace. Though Grace smiled cheerfully back at Uncle Chin and Uncle Steve, she'd really been far more interested in doing the Wave and trying to get the grown-ups to dance "Gangnam Style" with her.

Also easy to spot were the Honolulu Zoo and Waikiki Shell – where he and Grace had compromised and agreed to go see Jason Mraz ("he's cute...but musically competent") – as was the Pali Highway, where he'd spent a now non-negligible part of his life bickering with Steve as they criss-crossed the island in search of witnesses, suspects and evidence.

Looking out to the west, Danny could just make out the waters of the North Shore where Steve had dumped Joey Lombardo into a shark-watching cage. Danny chuckled softly to himself at the memory but soon stopped at the thought of Chin and Kono, in his place, enjoying a beer while enjoying Steve's unorthodox questioning tactics. Meanwhile, he envisioned himself, laboring beside some lame, conventional, by-the-book, box-ticking – and undoubtedly less effective – detective in Las Vegas.

He looked down at Chris Freed, who appeared to be stable and resting. Once again, his partner's need to be the superhero had produced results. Steve McGarrett was, without doubt, an insane Neanderthal. But Danny had come to think of him as his own insane Neanderthal. And the thought of Steve – and Five-0 – continuing its worthwhile efforts without him left him feeling envious of his colleagues.

Danny scanned the city streets and recognized countless chain link fences, laundry lines, swimming pools, and alleys – over, under, and through which they had chased many a suspect. But he was surprised to find it was just as easy to find familiar haunts that brought a smile to his face.

A quick survey of the shoreline turned up Kamekona's godawfully fugly yellow truck without much difficulty. Ala Moana Beach, where he'd fumbled with "the basics" of land-surfing, was easy to spot as well, its waters dotted with the ever-present crowd of casual surfers.

Danny had felt like an idiot starting from scratch, especially at his age, paddling on dry land. It took him the better part of a lesson to get out onto the water, and then another several before he could get himself upright on a wave more than 10 feet out from shore. But despite his abhorrence for the feeling of salt water up the nose, it all paid off when Grace joined them for her own first surf lesson. As he coasted into shore, she ran up to him, her eyes bigger than saucers. She wore a huge grin across her face as she yelled, "Wow, Danno! You were totally shredding!"

A short distance away, he spotted Mamo's, where Kono had helped him spec out a pink Shred Betty board – after he had insisted there was no way ("no _fucking_ way!") he was buying a Hoochie Mama- or Vixen-branded board – for Grace. And nearby, he knew was Grace's favorite paint-your-own pottery shop – a place where Steve was now _persona non grata_.

Danny found he was actually having fun and challenged himself to play a game of _Where's Waldo_ hunting for less obvious locales.

Near downtown he found Liliha's – home of the heavenly coco puff – and a cute barista who always slipped him an extra coconut macadamia nut cookie with his order. A few blocks south he found the jazz club on Kapiolani where Max had wowed them all during an amateur jazz open mic night.

With a little bit of searching, he found the bright yellow fire engine parked in front of Station House 7 near the end of Kapahulu. He counted two blocks north and guestimated the location of the Thai place where Chin and Malia had ordered "off the menu" – as in requesting specialties that were nowhere to be found on the printed menu. Just thinking about the restaurant's signature dish – dubbed "volcano curry" for haoles – made his mouth water and his lips sting. Chin had ultimately insisted on riding him home since Danny was really in no shape to drive after unsuccessfully trying to douse his flaming mouth with four Singhas consumed in rapid succession.

A few doors down, across from the Safeway, he knew, was the karaoke bar that Kono had picked out for Chin's bachelor party. Max's rendition of Devo's "Whip It" had them all falling out of their chairs, and proved to be a hard act to follow. Next up, Danny took the mic reluctantly, feebly intoning Bon Jovi's "Wanted Dead or Alive" as Kamekona led the party in vociferously booing Danny's half-baked effort.

Making sure there would be no chance he would be out-karaoke'ed by his partner, Steve chose "Livin' on a Prayer." As he left his seat to take his turn, Kono whispered conspiratorially in his ear, turning back to her drink with a giggle that left Chin feeling nervous.

Steve, it turned out, was as evidently fearless when it came to personal embarrassment as he was in matters of life and death. He attacked the mission at hand with characteristic McGarrett gusto, and soon had the whole crowd enthusiastically playing air guitar and lip-syncing to the chorus along with him. Danny was shaking his head in amused defeat when he made the mistake of catching Steve's eye (or allowing Steve to catch his eye, as the case may be). Steve honed in and sang the song's final verse to him, emphasizing, "We've got to hold on to what we've got/cause it doesn't make a difference/if we make it or not./We've got each other and that's a lot/for love...We'll give it a shot. Wo-oah! We're halfway there..."

Steve finished by winking and blowing a kiss in Danny's direction while Chin exhaled at having dodged a bullet. As Chin, Kono, Joe, Max, Kamekona, and Lori laughed themselves silly, Danny flushed crimson, covered his eyes with one hand, and shrank under the table. Steve triumphantly returned to his seat, fist-bumping the others and playfully "shooting" Danny with a mimed "gotcha" finger point. Danny finally gave in to the good-natured ribbing and mock-clutched at his chest where the invisible bullet would have hit, laughing along. Steve put his hands on his hips and smiled a cocky smile as he teased, "You know you loved it, babe!" – sending their dining companions into yet another fit of uncontrolled laughter.

As Danny continued searching for familiar places, Steve adjusted their heading to the southeast, to stay out of Honolulu International's air space. As they headed towards the coast, Danny searched for Rachel's street in Kahala. Even though he'd spent more than his share of hours sneaking out in the pre-dawn hours to avoid awkward explanations to Grace, he still fondly remembered falling asleep with Rachel in his arms. On those nights, with Grace asleep two doors down, Danny had finally felt like all was right in the universe again.

Danny craned his neck to find Steve's house on the beach. For over two years, it had been his surrogate home. Danny had spent more time there than in his own squalid series of apartments and seedy motels. Even after Steve had booted him as a houseguest and he'd found an apartment that he'd made livable, he still spent countless nights on Steve's couch. Danny had taken to keeping a spare change of clothes and a toothbrush in Steve's guest room for the more-than-occasional times when a case demanded their attention in the wee hours of the morning– sometimes with the ink barely dry on the prior evening's takeout receipt.

Many nights, too many beers consumed in too little time – a makeshift panacea to help blot out the horrors of a particularly rough day on the job – made the drive home a lethal proposition. Other times, late nights were spent working leads, reviewing potential evidence, and pushing theories until both were bleary-eyed with exhaustion. But many more evenings had been occupied by comfortable conversation about everything and nothing – Cath and Rachel, parents and siblings, life and death, guns and sports, movies and music, MREs and masaladas, love and loss.

Stretched to his full height, Danny could just make out the railing of Steve's lanai. He smiled, remembering the birthday dinner Doris McGarrett had served al fresco on the upper deck. After listening to Danny whine about the local cuisine for the better part of an evening, she exercised her formidable intelligence gathering skills to extract Sue Williams's secret. Her resulting lasagna topped even Danny's sisters' best attempts and he had happily eaten leftovers every night for the rest of the week.

As they reached the coast and turned westward, Danny watched the tourists climbing the steep steps to Diamond Head's lookout point.

Even as his original flight from Newark descended into Honolulu airport for the first time, he'd vowed not to be sucked into the island's seemingly endless array of tourist traps. Eventually Steve and the rest of Five-0's extended _ohana_ relentlessly tag-teamed him into submission, acquainting him with the island's hidden treasures from a local's perspective.

But even on that very first day on the Island, the fates had intervened to make sure Danny appreciated that tourist highlights were such for a reason. And so, as it happened, a wrong turn that day had left him lost and out of gas by a pullout near the Diamond Head lookout. Stranded, with no A/C in the car, and nothing to do but wait for the roadside assistance truck to arrive, Danny reluctantly extracted himself from the driver's seat and began pacing along the stone barrier between the pavement and the rocky slope leading down to the shore.

Just the day before, the whole Williams clan had driven through the pouring rain to see him off at the airport. The goodbyes started off unremarkably, with a firm handshake and a hug from his Pop, who said a comforting, "You go do what you gotta do, son." But after a seemingly endless series of heartfelt goodbyes with his sisters – who took pains to brush away their tears when their kids weren't watching – it had taken every ounce of willpower for Danny to turn and walk away from his mother, who, unbeknownst to Danny, had bit her cheek until it bled so that he wouldn't see her cry as well. The last thing he saw before making his way down the jetway had been his little brother Matty, who stood behind the gate agent with a sad smile on his face, waving with one hand, and holding a giant bouquet of Mylar balloons emblazoned with "We'll miss you!" in the other.

A hastily placed phone call from his precinct captain to the head of HPD had ensured him employment upon his arrival, but not much else. Danny already dreaded being the "new guy," especially one surrounded by a bunch of Keystone Cops who probably stressed as much about their tans as the purse snatchers who Danny envisioned likely comprised the vast majority of Hawaii's "criminal element."

The flight from Newark had departed late due to the rain, and as a result, Danny missed his connection at LAX. After four hours spent reading Sports Illustrated cover to cover, three times, his flight finally took off, placing him at Honolulu International close to midnight.

The "three-star ocean-view" hotel room he'd been promised would have been dingy and dim under any circumstances. But his midnight arrival mid-weekend left him with the last available room. The only chance he would have of seeing the ocean from his room would be if someone walked in with a glass of sea water – or a tsunami knocked flat all the luxury high-rises that lined Waikiki's shores to create a line of sight.

The following morning hadn't been much better. After two hours of fruitless apartment hunting, he'd had found himself turned around, unable to navigate with the shoreline as a landmark as he had in Jersey (just keep it on your right and you'll be heading North). And so it was that he found himself stuck on the road to Diamond Head Lookout that afternoon, miserable and lost.

"Goddamned Stan!" he had muttered to himself. He looked out at the sea, sparkling blue and mocking him from seemingly every direction. "Stupid island." Even after unceremoniously tossing his jacket in the back seat, he was still sweltering in the blazing sun; the button up and tie he'd donned to look trustworthy to potential landlords, combined with the 70% humidity to make the temperatures feel even warmer than they already were.

He continued to curse the "stupid sun," as passing tourists watched him with bewildered stares. The apartment he'd moved into after he and Rachel had split wasn't much to shout about, but at that very moment, with a relatively small batch of belongings – the items he couldn't bring with him in his checked luggage – in transit, all he wanted was to be back home in his bland bachelor pad, sitting on his Barcalounger, with Grace at his side, watching the Yankees stick it to the Sox.

"Hey, buddy," one half a couple in their mid-60s finally said, "me and my wife, we've been saving all our lives for this trip. I don't know why you're here and why you seem to hate it so much, but look around. There are people who would give their right arms to be standing where you are right now."

Danny bit back the urge to tell the guy to go mind his own god-damned business and managed to choke out, "I'll take that under advisement."

After their tour bus had finally left the nearby parking lot and the throng temporarily thinned out, Danny walked over to the edge where the largest crowd of tourists had congregated. _Okay,_ he said to himself. _So what the fuck is the big deal? It's the ocean. Big fucking deal._

He sat down on the ledge, turning himself around so his feet dangled off the edge of the stone wall. In the distance, he could see the multi-colored sails of Sunfish and windsurfers dotting the cerulean waters, and at water's edge, the red top of the nearby lighthouse.

To the east, he could hear the faint sound of sirens approaching. Danny's eyes followed the windy road that hugged the shoreline and he soon saw an older black sports car weaving in and out of traffic along Diamond Head Road. About a quarter-mile back, he saw a newer blue sports car, with a blinking cherry on top, following behind and gaining at a good pace. Danny smiled to himself for the first time that day. _They don't give plainclothes cops unmarked cars to go after purse snatchers. Maybe this place won't be so bad after all._

As the cars rounded the bend, Danny could see the white-capped waves, rolling into the beach at the base of the hills. Though he knew he was far too high up for it to be possible, he would have sworn he could hear the waves crashing into the shore. Though dotted with umbrellas, blankets, and sunbathers, it was nowhere near as crowded as the wall-to-wall mass of humanity who crowded Jersey's shores on summer weekends.

_Grace will love playing there_ , he thought to himself. His smile spread from the corners of his mouth to his whole face as he remembered, _And I get to see her tomorrow afternoon…assuming I haven't been arrested for killing my sure-to-be-an-idiot partner._

Grace, Rachel, and Stan had relocated nearly a month prior. It had been by far, the longest, Danny had gone without seeing Grace, which no doubt contributed to his incessant grumpiness. Her attempts to talk him through Skype and FaceTime on his sisters' smart devices had been appreciated, but not very successful.

_And I get to see her every week, now that I'm here._ That thought brought a smile to his face for the first time since his arrival. Danny continued to stare out into the waters, as the skies began to turn pink and purple – Grace's favorite colors. The temperatures began to decline with the arrival of dusk. By the time the roadside assistance truck arrived, he had come to accept his situation. And over the years, the pullout where he'd been stranded – relatively quiet and uncrowded in early mornings and later in the evening – had become a respite on days when he wondered why he hadn't run back to the mainland at the first chance he got.

Danny had been grateful for every moment he'd been able to spend with Grace, and at those times, where they were had become so secondary as to be insignificant. But the morning he'd been served with the revised custody petition, he could feel his world being upended again. _No. Not again. God damn it. Not again._ The papers had weighed heavily on his mind, even as Fryer's murder and the HPD explosion consumed Five-0's attention.

When the long day finally ended, Danny had picked up Grace from school, and unexpectedly found himself driving up the steep silver ribbon of road up to Diamond Head. Watching one of the two most beautiful things on the island staring contentedly out at the other, Danny realized that Hawaii had indeed become home to both of them, and he found the resolve he needed to fight for their right to stay there, together.

It was at that moment that he threw down the proverbial gauntlet, leaving Rachel a voicemail message to let her know he would contest the custody change – a message that precipitated six months of increasingly terse and angry voicemails, tense mono-syllabic pick-ups and drop-offs, and accusatory stares, culminating in the morning's court hearing. _It all seems like such a long time ago_ , Danny thought, staring down at the silvery ribbon of road that that twisted its way up the barren hillside of Diamond Head.

As they began their final descent, Danny glanced ahead and saw Honolulu's other tourist hotspots pass by in rapid succession, without emotion: the statue of Justice by the Punchbowl, Waimea Falls, Hilo Hatties godawful kitch emporium, and the International Market Place, among others.

Steve's voice over the intercom interrupted Danny's sightseeing. "Kings Medical, this is HPD N6007H ** _._** Lieutenant Commander Steve McGarrett requesting permission to land."

"All clear, Commander McGarrett," came a voice in their headsets. "We're ready for you."

Danny looked past Steve and out the forward window, and felt a moment of regret. In the distance, he could just spy the only tourist site that he wished he'd made an effort to visit – the USS Arizona.

_Well, maybe we can come back someday on vacation?_ he thought, then corrected himself. _Who the hell am I kidding? If I have to move to Vegas, I am_ never _coming back to this place on vacation_. But then the thought of leaving behind Steve, Chin and Kono, Kamekona and Max, hell, even, Doris, Catherine, Flippa and Toast, left him cold. _They're never coming to the mainland. I'm gonna have to come back if I wanna see them. Shit._

But even as the final syllable silently passed his lips, he found that he actually wouldn't really mind the thought of returning someday for a visit. _Double shit._ The place had grown on him.

Moments later, Steve gently set the skids on the ground and killed the engine. Danny unstrapped himself and hopped out as the rotors slowed to a stop and the helo's rhythmic whir dimmed to a low whine. Hospital staff were at the ready and quickly whisked the congressman off on a stretcher.

"I'll stay here and get the security detail set up," Danny volunteered, as Steve readied to return the helicopter to its base.

Shortly thereafter, Steve drove back from the airfield in Danny's car, listening to the empty seat next to him rant. _What is the matter with you? I_ knew _you couldn't let Wo Fat go! Freed was hit! What were you thinking?_ Nothing _should have been a higher priority._

He returned twenty minutes later to find Danny in the hospital cafeteria, slumped across a table, with his head resting on his arm.

Danny looked up and replied, "Hey." Danny had been mentally continuing his Hawaii retrospective. As he contemplated how impossible it would be to replicate his life in Vegas – or even to create a reasonable facsimile, he found himself feeling more miserable than ever.

"You look like hell," Steve added.

"Thanks," Danny sat up and glared at him. "This is what I look like after I get shot at by a homicidal sociopath," he replied drily.

"Any news on Freed?" Steve asked.

"He's still in surgery," Danny said, "but the doctors are optimistic."

"That's good," Steve said, adding, "Kono called; daughter's on her way. They found the body of our third heat signature, about 50 yards from the hideaway. It turns out he was a local who was probably in the wrong place at the wrong time. The ATV Wo Fat was riding was registered in his name; they found it abandoned along the road about 2 miles from the hideout. Ground's dry though, so not much for tire tracks. HPD crime techs are checking out the cabin, but early reports say Wo Fat cleared it out. I don't think they're gonna get much there."

"Great," Danny replied grimly.

Steve paused for a beat before venturing ahead. "Any news?"

"Didn't I just give you the update?" Danny said, with annoyance.

"That's not what I meant," Steve said. "Any news for you?"

Danny soberly shook his head. Since he didn't volunteer anything else, Steve grabbed a chair and sat down next to him.

"It looks like Amy was clean," Steve reported. "She was telling the truth; Wo Fat said he'd kill her...and he did."

"Wow, there's really a first for everything," Danny deadpanned. "An honest politician."

"The slug in Amy was a positive match for the rifle in the sniper's car," Steve continued. "The shooter's name is Kimo Alohilani. Aside from the phone calls, they haven't found a direct link to Wo Fat yet. But get this, wanna guess who the gun traces back to?"

"Our favorite dead arms dealer?" Danny guessed.

Steve nodded and confirmed. "Victor Hesse."

"Boy, this just keeps getting better and better," Danny said.

"In the meantime, Kono and Chin are building the case on Powers," Steve continued, "but with Amy and the shooter both dead, we don't have much to hard evidence to tie all this to Wo Fat."

"Except Freed," Danny observed.

"Except Freed," Steve agreed. "When he wakes up, we're gonna need a statement."

"Right," Danny replied, slouching back in his seat.

"I got this, Danny," Steve said. "It's been a long day. I can get this."

Danny shook his head. "Nah. I'll stay. At this point it's probably too late for a verdict today, so this will at least give me a few less hours to tear my hair out. Besides, I'll feel better seeing for myself that he's okay."

Steve nodded absent-mindedly in acknowledgement as he stared out the window, still seething over another near-miss with Wo Fat.

_Glad you're so interested,_ Danny thought, pulling out his phone. He launched a browser, and began browsing rental housing options in Las Vegas. _Well, the good news is that rental housing is a lot more abundant – not to mention cheaper – in Las Vegas,_ he concluded. But then searching a bit more, he noticed that detective salaries were even lower than HPD's, which was already a big step down from his pay grade back in Jersey. _Damn. I can't buy a break._

He stabbed his finger at the touchscreen and angrily swiped screens until he found Grace's Angry Birds app. He hadn't spent much time playing it since he'd downloaded it for her during one weekend visit, but the few times he did, he could hear her voice in his head, explaining each of the birds' powers. On this particular afternoon, he needed to hear her voice. Given the uncertainty of their situation, he didn't want raise false hopes or worry her more by calling her again, so he settled for hearing virtual-Grace in his head as he killed time in the hospital cafeteria.

Both Danny and Steve were well distracted when a nurse finally approached an hour later. "Excuse me, Detective Williams?" Danny stood up to listen. "Congressman Freed's awake. He's still weak, but should be able to answer a few questions."

"Thank you," Danny replied. He looked over at Steve. "Ready?" Steve nodded and stood to join him.

They walked silently to the congressman's recovery room. Freed's uniformed guards nodded in salute as Steve and Danny walked by.

Freed was resting, his head turned towards the window. An IV dripped into his right arm and a clean sling had been secured over the left shoulder of his hospital gown. The nurse on duty stood to give them privacy. On her way out, she let them know, "You have ten minutes."

"Sorry to bother you, Congressman, sir," Steve said. He waited for Freed to turn over to face them. He pointed to himself and said, "Lieutenant Commander Steve McGarrett, Five-0," then motioned towards Danny, adding, "This is Detective Danny Williams."

Freed turned his head to look at Steve and Danny. "Chris Freed. But I guess you knew that." He gave them a faint smile. "Thanks for saving my ass."

"You looked like you were holding your own pretty well," Danny replied, smiling amicably.

Freed chuckled softly before realizing that laughter hurt his chest. He sat up partially and hacked several times before getting the cough under control and lying back down.

"We know this isn't a great time, sir, but we need to get your statement," Steve said. "Can you tell us what happened?"

"I was working in my office last night," Freed began, "when I got a call from Powers asking me to meet him."

"Brad Powers?" Danny clarified.

"Yes," Freed confirmed. "Said he needed to hammer out debate ground rules and that he wouldn't be able to make our scheduled meeting later. He gave me this address near Mount Tantalus and sent his car service over to get me."

"What time was that?" Steve asked.

"I'm not sure. Seven, eight p.m., maybe? Amy and Josh had gone for a bite and the rest of the staff had left for the day," Freed replied. "So the car arrived – dark sedan, nothing distinct, and the next thing I know, I'm waking up in the middle of nowhere with some guy holding a gun to my head."

"The man we saw shooting at you?" Steve asked. Freed nodded in reply.

"He's a wanted criminal named Wo Fat," Steve explained, nodding for Freed to continue.

"He handcuffed me to a heavy metal chair in this outbuilding. The room had concrete walls, no distinguishing marks, small windows. Looked almost like a bunker to me. He said he wanted me to sign a letter he'd written. Something about apologizing and being ashamed," Freed explained.

"Did you sign it?" Danny asked.

"Hell no," Freed replied. "I told that arrogant piece of shit to go fuck himself." Danny and Steve both stifled pleased grins. "But I had to think twice when he threatened my daughter," Freed continued, as Danny nodded with understanding.

"Katie's fine, sir," Steve reassured him. "And she's on her way."

"Oh, thank god," Freed breathed a sigh of relief. He closed his eyes for a moment just to let that thought sink in before continuing. "When this 'Wo Fat' went into the next room, he left me with a pen to sign his goddamned confession. So I picked the lock and I ran," Freed said.

"Nice!" Danny smiled appreciatively. _Anyone who tells Wo Fat to go fuck himself, and then picks a lock with a ballpoint pen gets my vote!_

"Wo Fat's getting sloppy," Steve observed.

"I had a pretty good head start, but he must have had the ATV ready, 'cause he caught up pretty quick. He got me in the shoulder with a rifle, and I think that's about where you came in. And it's a good thing you arrived when you did," Freed concluded. "What I don't understand, though, is what was the letter about? What the hell am I supposed to be so ashamed of? I haven't done anything wrong."

Steve and Danny exchanged glances.

"Well, sir," Steve explained, "We believe that Wo Fat was plotting to discredit you, so that Brad Powers would be elected."

"Brad Powers?" Freed asked, surprised. "That can't be. Powers has aligned with some questionable interests on some of the issues, but I can't believe he'd resort to kidnapping."

"We can't prove it yet," Danny said, "but there is a lot of evidence that points in that direction. And we don't think Powers is running the show."

"Wo Fat?" asked Freed.

"Yes, sir," Steve acknowledged. "We believe that Wo Fat has been trying to shift the election in Powers's favor. Based on the polls, that strategy has yet to achieve its desired effect. So we believe he got nervous and devised a plan to frame you and take you out of the election."

"Frame me for what?"

"Murder," Steve answered.

"Murder?" Freed pushed himself up to look Steve and Danny in the eye.

"Yeah," Danny confirmed. "You see, it was a funny coincidence. We just 'happened' to find a dead prostitute in the bed of the house in Kahala where you've been staying."

"Only a few trusted advisors and personal friends knew I was staying there," Freed said, alarmed. He began listing, "Sam Denning, Katie, Josh Lowry, and..."

Steve and Danny exchanged glances and Danny looked away.

"And Amy Davidson," Steve completed the sentence.

"Amy?" asked Freed. "Amy wouldn't betray me. I'd trust her with my life."

Steve swallowed hard. He still hated this part of the job. "Sir, Amy Davidson lost her life trying to protect you."

Freed collapsed back onto his pillow, staring at the ceiling.

"We have security footage of Amy leaving a bar last night with Wo Fat," Steve explained. "We believe that's when Wo Fat coerced her into helping with his charade. Based on Amy's statements, he forced her to cooperate and threatened to kill her if she didn't. When she panicked and tried to do the right thing, he had her executed."

"No, not Amy," Freed said mournfully. "Was anyone else hurt?"

"No, no," Danny replied. "The other people in the building, including the rest of your staff, were all safely evacuated. We believe that Amy was targeted because of her familiarity with you and her knowledge of your campaign. "

"Amy's family," Freed said, "have they been informed?"

"Yes, sir," Steve said. "HPD has also provided grief counselors to your campaign staff. They're all a bit shaken, but Josh has them working on organizing a candlelight vigil in Amy's memory."

Freed nodded and turned his head away. Danny looked at Steve, silently wondering if that was their cue to depart.

Steve nodded towards the door and Danny had turned to leave when Freed stopped them. "Wait."

Danny turned back around and they waited for Freed to collect his thoughts. "Wo Fat," he said. "Didn't his name come up in Pat Jameson's murder?"

"Yes, sir, it did," Steve confirmed.

"Then why isn't that bastard facing the business end of a lethal injection?" Freed demanded.

"Sir," Steve said, "he is the slipperiest son of a bitch I have ever seen. He has people watching his back in every agency we've encountered: HPD, CIA, the governor's office. You name it, he has someone on his payroll there. And he's so well connected, he's got a lot of protectors on the inside making sure they don't lose their informant. So every time we bring him in, someone gets him off, or..." Steve couldn't bring himself to say admit that Wo Fat had eluded him personally on so many occasions.

Freed looked to Steve to complete his thought, and was surprised to hear Danny say, "Or he just plain escapes." Steve glared at Danny. Danny shrugged as if to say, _Truth hurts, pal._

"Well," Freed said, "you've got one more in your corner now. You let me know what I can do to help."

"Thank you, sir," Steve replied as a knock sounded at the door.

Steve and Danny turned around to find HPD Sgt. Duke Lukela escorting a teenaged girl who was carrying an oversized rainbow leopard-print backpack. Freed looked through the window and smiled. Katie Freed threw open the door and ran in, dropping the backpack before flinging her arms around him, tearfully sobbing, "Daddy!"

"Hey, Sunshine!" Freed winced as she bumped into his injured shoulder. He bit back the pain and smiled as she stood back. "Hey, hey, hey," he said soothingly. "There's no need for tears. I'm fine."

Steve and Danny nodded their goodbyes, and Freed silently mouthed _thank you_ as they left.

"Daddy, I was so worried about you," Katie said.

"Don't you worry," they overheard Freed saying as the door shut behind them, "I'll always be there for you." Steve watched as Danny stopped to watch the happy reunion through the window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After writing the prior chapters, I happened to glance up to see the establishing shots (the landscapes shot from the air). Although H50 uses these shots constantly to indicate passage of time/distance, in this particular case, I couldn't help thinking that the Danny in this fic would be seeing a similar view as he was perched in the helicopter returning to Honolulu. So, next thing I knew, 11 seconds of footage became 2,200 words of fanfic and a bunch of plot bunnies (at least the pottery painting memory has a story behind it).
> 
> I don't recall any mention of Danny's mom's name (almost done watching Season 2), but if it's ever mentioned, I'll correct it. In the meantime, I also don't know when his birthday is, but given the timing between the Season 2 reveal, and this episode in January, I figure I have at least a 50-50 shot of it having passed in that time.
> 
> In the meantime, I like Freed. I hope he's back. Anyone who tells Wo Fat to take a flying leap has my vote, too!


	8. To Hawai'i! (McGarrett Home)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this update was such a long time coming, but I wanted to get caught up on all the DVDs so I could clean up what's been written so far before tackling this and the coda. In the meantime, chapters 1-7 have been tweaked to clean up settings, context, characterization, and backstory.

***** To Hawai'i! (McGarrett Home) *****

While Danny remained transfixed by the congressman and his very relieved daughter, Steve quietly checked in with the unis on duty. When he finished, he turned to Danny, placing a hand on his shoulder. "C'mon, man," he said, "we're not quite done for the day yet."

Danny nodded silently and turned for one last look before following Steve down the hall. With Freed and his daughter reunited and secured, Steve's attention returned to Wo Fat with laser-like intensity. He determinedly stalked out the hospital's main entrance, forcing Danny to a light jog to keep pace.

"Hey, whoa, whoa, whoa," Danny called. "Hold up there, cowboy. Where are we going in such a hurry?"

Steve turned back and glared at Danny, eyes blazing. "We almost had him, Danny."

"Maybe," Danny acknowledged, "but he probably had at least a 10-minute head start on HPD. He's long gone."

"This is the closest we've gotten in months," Steve insisted.

"And you think that makes us any closer to catching him?" Danny asked, wearily. "We'll have Freed's testimony, but that's not gonna help us find Wo Fat, or make this set of charges stick any better than the ones before."

Steve stop and raised a pointed finger to emphasize his point stopped himself before speaking. "Never mind," he said. "Let's just get back and see if Kono and Chin have had any luck."

"Okay," said Danny, practically sleepwalking behind him to the car.

Steve drove, with the speakerphone constantly blaring along the way, alternatingly dictating orders, and receiving updates from HPD tactical. By the time they arrived at Five-0 headquarters, Danny had to consciously resist the urge to duck into his office to avoid all things Wo Fat.

As they entered, Danny rubbed the sore spot on the front of his right shoulder. Back in Jersey he'd been happy to leave the heavy-duty offensive maneuvers to SWAT and the federal tactical teams. Although his vest helped disperse the impact, it still ached from the recent extended exposure to heavy and repeated kickback.

Chin looked up as Danny and Steve approached, asking, "So how's the congressman?"

"No major organs were hit," Steve reported, "just soft tissue damage. He's gonna be all right."

Chin nodded. "All right."

Chin and Kono both noticed the elephant who'd walked in with the boys, but it was Kono who finally put a name to it. "What about Wo Fat?"

"The entire department's searching the jungle," Danny replied. "Perimeter's set up. Helicopter in the air." Danny pointed to the sky. "Everything." Danny sighed.

"Find anything at the abandoned house?" Steve asked, hopefully.

"Yeah," Chin replied, "a cell phone. Wo Fat left it. He must have been in a rush to chase down the congressman."

"And judging by the call log," Kono added, "looks like we were right. He was trying to buy himself a powerful ally." She swept a page from the computer table onto one of the peripheral view screens. "We have calls to our sniper, to Serena Adams, Amy Davidson, Brad Powers's known associates and to Powers himself, beginning only days after the candidates were announced. We can also trace contributions to the Powers campaign and to a number of his PACs from Wo Fat's shell companies and associates."

"Nice," Danny said.

"We need to find Brad Powers," Steve said.

"Already done," Chin replied. "Powers is at a Town Hall meeting over at the Blaisdell Center. It's scheduled to end in…" – he glanced down at his watch – "…about 20 minutes. We can probably catch him there if we hurry."

"Good work," Steve said. "Keep tabs on HPD and let me know if they get any leads on Wo Fat. Danny and I'll head over and pick up Powers."

As they walked to the car, Danny pulled his phone call and took a quick peek at the view screen: 5:10 p.m.; still no missed calls, no messages. He sighed deeply and pressed his attorney's speed dial. "Hey, Danny Williams here. I'm guessing that there's no news yet since I haven't heard from you, but I've been tied up in case all day so I thought I'd check in, just in case I missed your call. Keep me posted, I guess." He dejectedly hung up and placed his phone back in his pocket before sliding into his seat next to Steve.

Steve looked over, concerned. "How're you holding up, bud?"

"I feel like I'm crawling out of my skin," Danny replied. "If I don't hear soon, I'm going to start molting – like a snake or a cicada, maybe a kinorhynch. "

"A what?" Steve asked.

"A kinorynch," Danny replied. "It's a marine invertebrate. Some people call it a 'mud dragon.'"

When Steve continued to stare back blankly, Danny added, " _Animal Planet_."

Steve shook his head in disbelief. "Really?"

"I watch it when I can't sleep," Danny protested. "And at this rate, it looks like I'm not getting any sleep tonight, either."

"Why don't you come hang at my place tonight?" Steve proposed.

"So I can listen to you bitch about Wo Fat?" Danny asked. "No thank you."

"No, seriously," Steve said, "I promise. I won't even mention Wo Fat."

"Steven, how many times have we talked about making promises you can't keep?" Danny asked.

"Okay, no promises," Steve agreed. "But come anyway. I don't like the idea of your being alone like this."

"Why, cause I might do something stupid?"

"The thought's crossed my mind," Steve replied.

"I'm not gonna do anything stupid, so you don't need to worry about me," Danny curtly replied.

"Well how about if I just wanna be there for you, if you wanna talk or anything."

"I'll think about it," Danny sulked.

"Okay," Steve conceded, dropping the subject. He redirected his attention to finding a parking spot as they approached the Blaisdell entertainment complex.

He found an empty spot near the end of an aisle and they made their way to the event center's main entrance. A red carpet had been laid, and excited sign-waving supporters had been cordoned behind velvet ropes.

Steve and Danny stood watching the crowd as they eagerly awaited a glimpse of their chosen candidate. Powers emerged soon thereafter, posing for the camera. He shook hands with a row of supporters, smiling and waving congenially.

"Look at him," Danny said, folding his arms. "I think I just threw up in my mouth. If I wanted to be surrounded by corrupt politicians, I would have stayed in Jersey."

"Are you saying that Hawaii has something in common with Jersey?" Steve kidded.

"It's not a compliment."

As Powers made his way to the end of the assembled supporters, Steve saw Danny removing a set of handcuffs from his waistband and readying them for use. As Steve turned his attention to Powers, Danny waited for Steve to say something.

When Steve remained silent, Danny leaned in and asked, "Aren't you gonna say it?"

"Say what?" Steve asked.

"You know," Danny replied.

"I thought you didn't like it," Steve said.

"I don't. Didn't." Danny corrected himself.

"Well then I won't," Steve said. "You know what to do."

Danny, still preparing himself to get on a plane to Vegas in the near future, begrudgingly insisted, "Would you just say it?"

Despite being concerned at the helpless tone in Danny's request, Steve quietly complied, nodding towards Powers as he approached. "Book 'em, Danno."

Danny smiled grimly and made his way out from behind the security barricade.

Powers reached the end of the line, but his outstretched hand met up with a decidedly unsmiling and unsupportive Steve McGarrett. Steve held up his badge, effectively wiping the smile off Powers's face. "Nice to see you again, Mr. Powers," he said.

Danny stepped behind Powers, and gently grabbed Powers's left arm. "Relax," he advised.

"What the hell are you doing?" Powers demanded.

"You got bad taste in friends, buddy," Danny replied.

"Bradley Powers, you're under arrest for conspiracy to commit murder," Steve recited. Danny led him away, as Steve finished Miranizing Powers, and the canidate's s bodyguards and supporters gaped, dumbfounded.

Powers's presence in the backseat effectively killed any personal conversation, and they drove in silence before dumping him at Central Booking and officially calling it a day.

"Did you think about it?" Steve asked, as they finished signing off on the arrest papers.

"Think about what?"

"Coming over tonight."

"Thanks, but no thanks," Danny said as they descended the steps at HPD. "I'll drop you off at Five-0. Then all I wanna do is go home, order a pizza, stand in the shower for an hour, and then watch TV until my brain shuts down."

"No you're not," Steve replied.

"What? You're my keeper now?"

"No, but I'm not gonna let you go home and wallow in self-pity," Steve said.

"I don't wallow," Danny said.

"Like hell you don't," Steve retorted. "You are like the _king_ of wallowing."

"Shut up."

"Come to dinner with us."

"Who's us?"

"Your friends, Danny," Steve replied. "It's been a long day and we did some good work today. Chin and Kono said they'd meet us at Kamekona's."

"Look, I appreciate what you're all trying to do," Danny said, "But I'm not really feeling social tonight."

"You don't have a choice," Steve smiled, dangling the keys from his hand. "I've got the keys."

"I hate you," Danny muttered, reluctantly getting into the car.

"I know," Steve grinned as he got into the car himself and started the engine. Danny purposely stared out his window as Steve put the car in gear and backed out of their parking spot. He cautiously glanced over a few times to find Danny still avoiding eye contact.

"Look, Danny," Steve finally said, breaking the silence, "I remember how you told me how your brother Matt had to talk you through rough times when you and Rachel split…" He waited until Danny at least tilted his head a bit in acknowledgement. "Matty's gone now. So you're gonna have to rely on the people who are here for you, now, Danny. You're stuck with us – with me – whether you like it or not. And I'm not gonna let you beat yourself up again." Steve paused to wait for Danny's reaction.

Danny let Steve's words sink in and then came to the most depressing conclusion. "So you think I lost?" he asked, non-confrontationally.

"What?" Steve had been thinking about getting Danny through the night. It hadn't occurred to him that Danny would assume he meant the next several weeks.

"You think the judge is gonna rule for Rachel and Stan?" Danny asked. "That's why the pep talk, right?"

"That's not what I meant," Steve said, regretfully. "If I were the judge, it would be a no brainer. I meant every word I said, Danny. Grace is lucky to have you."

"But you're worried about me."

"Of course, I'm worried about you," Steve replied. "And I just wanted to make sure you knew that I'm here for you tonight so you don't have to sit around alone. And I'll be here for you if the judge were – hypothetically, of course – to make a really stupid decision."

"Okay," Danny said softly. They drove the remaining way in silence, arriving at Kamekona's just as the shadows started getting longer.

Steve had been texting Kono and Chin updates on Danny's situation all day, so they already knew that there had been no news. So, as Danny and Steve approached, they stood and said a soft "Hey," accompanied by friendly handshakes and comforting hugs.

Kamekona made his way out with a tray of beers and greeted his newest guests with his customarily jovial smile, "Hey, McGarrett. Jersey." Behind Danny's back, the others were trying their best to wave any additional friendly inquiries, but their motions went unnoticed. "Any news on Short Stuff?"

"Not yet," Danny replied. "Though you might as well get used to losing a quarter of your nightly revenue, since no news has gotta be bad news."

While Kono and Chin instinctively started to protest, Kamekona saw an opening. "Aw, Detective Williams. You hurt me good. You don't think I have other customers?"

Danny looked around and saw just the four of them sitting at their picnic table. "Well, yeah! You see anyone else here, Bubba?"

"Well, as a matter of fact," Kamekona began, sitting down on the end of the picnic bench and nudging until Danny slid over and practically into Kono's lap, "I'll have you know that business here is up. And, once I get my helicopter license…"

For the next 10 minutes, Kamekona proceeded to regale the Five-0 team with progress reports on his helicopter touring plan. He'd already had several flying lessons and was beginning to log the requisite hours to seek his pilot's license. As Kamekona suspected, this tidbit alone was enough fodder to keep Danny ranting for the ensuing 20 minutes about the insanity of aviation regulation and how the bone-headed authorities will clearly let any wahoo with an over-leveraged SBA loan take the lives of innocent tourists in their hands.

An animated debate with Kamekona – not to mention a beer and few plates of garlic shrimp in his belly – soon had Danny sounding more like himself again. Satisfied that he'd done his part, and pleased to see that conversation had returned to lighter, more routine matters, Kamekona cleared the plates and returned to his truck to retrieve another round of beers.

"So, did you hear? Denning's press conference? We heard it on the way over," Kono said.

"That oughta have been interesting," Danny commented. "What'd he say?"

"Well, I have to say," Chin replied, "he did a remarkable job of giving out a very limited set of facts and shutting down questions."

"Figures," Danny said. "I assume he left out the bit about gubernatorial interference and obstruction of justice."

"Right, that," Kono smiled. "Then Josh Lowry gave a statement about Amy Davidson."

"Ink isn't even dry on her death certificate," Danny said, shaking his head. "Lemme guess, he's using the death of his allegedly beloved colleague as a way to garner sympathy with the voters."

"Actually, Danny," Chin replied, "he pretty much stuck to the facts just like you and McGarrett relayed them earlier — "

"And," Kono interrupted, "get this – Lowry played a recorded statement from Chris Freed. He gave a pretty moving speech about staying in the race and integrity and perseverance. I think his 'hero legend' pretty much sealed the deal. He's got the election in the bag. The talk shows are going crazy for him."

"I really might have to vote for the guy," Danny said, still shaking his head.

"Well, in two weeks you're gonna get your chance, brah," Chin replied.

"Assuming I'm still here in two weeks," Danny said morosely.

"C'mon, Danny," Kono coaxed. "Don't think that way. You're still gonna be here – and you can bring Grace to the polls with you and she can gush to her friends about how Danno saved the election."

"You got it," Steve smiled. "Besides, anybody who tells Wo Fat to, quote/unquote 'fuck himself' has my vote."

"He said that?" Kono gasped in surprise.

"Verbatim, the way he tells it," Steve gleefully replied.

"Good for him!" said Chin, admiringly.

"To Chris Freed?" Kono asked, raising her beer.

"To Chris Freed!" the others agreed noisily clinking her bottle.

"Hey, what're we drinking to?" Kamekona asked, having just returned with a tray of full beers.

"How Five-0 saved democracy in Hawaii," Kono boasted with a big grin.

"Oh," Kamekona said wearily. "That again?"

"You!" Kono accused, punching him playfully in the shoulder with a left jab.

"Hey, Mama," Kamekona replied. "Watch it with the goods! That's a valuable asset you're damaging!"

"Wait a minute," Danny interjected, his disbelief temporarily outweighing his wallowing. "What asset?"

"My arms, bruddah," Kamekona said.

"Your arms?" Danny asked incredulously. "In what universe are those oversized bratwursts valuable assets?"

"My arms are attached to my hands," Kamekona replied with a reverent tone. "And these hands are the tools of a master."

Danny took the bait. "Master what?"

"Master of all trades, of course," Kamekona said.

Danny opened his mouth to reply but their CI's bravado was so over-the-top that he couldn't even find a suitable retort. When Danny didn't reply, the others turned back to Kamekona's side of the verbal volley.

"Master chef, master marketer," Kamekona began, and finished with a confident nod, "and soon to be master pilot."

"You know," Danny replied. "You're certifiable, right? In fact, I think you're even more nuts than McGarrett here, and he clearly has more than a few screws loose." Steve mimed pulling an arrow out of his gut while Kono and Chin chuckled amiably.

"Hey, sue me," Kamekona challenged. "I can't help if I got ambition. You laugh all you want now. When I'm rich and famous, I'll remember who my friends are." He turned with a mock huff, picked up a tray full of empties, and ambled back to his truck.

"Hey guys," Kono said, "I hate to say it, but I gotta split."

"Hot date?" Steve asked, waggling his eyebrows.

"Yeah, kinda," Kono said, still feeling guilty for cloning Adam's phone on their last date.

Chin shook his head disapprovingly. "Kono…"

"Don't start with me," Kono said, humorlessly, cutting off any additional protective fawning. "Look, I have to go." She turned to Steve and said, "We'll get him next time." Then she turned to Danny and added, "Don't worry, Danny."

Danny nodded unconvinced as Kono hopped into her cherry-red Cruze and drove away.

"Am I the only one who thinks a cop dating the head of the Yakuza is a bad idea?" Chin asked.

"If she were my daughter, I'd ground her for life," Danny muttered.

"See, Danny," Steve said. "That's exactly what I mean. It doesn't matter what the hell we're doing or talking about. It's always Grace you think of first. The judge has gotta see that." Chin nodded in support.

"From your lips to god's ears," Danny said.

"Hey, I gotta head out, too," Chin said apologetically, tossing a few bills on the table to cover his share and Kono's. "I promised Fong I'd get back to him on what additional analysis we wanted done on the stuff we picked up from Wo Fat's shelter."

"'kay, Chin," Steve said, "Thanks." He held out his fist and Chin gave it a gentle fist bump and gave Danny a reassuring rub on the shoulder before he headed away on his motorbike.

As the sound of Chin's engine faded in the distance, Danny turned wearily to Steve. "Now can I go home?"

"Not a chance," Steve replied.

"So where are we going, now, pray tell?"

"My place."

"Oh, c'mon, Steve," Danny whined. "I've had enough torture for one day. The game's not even on for another three hours out here on this remote hunk of rock."

"Just come hang out, Danny. Sit on the beach. Watch the sunset."

"I might as well," Danny replied, folding his arms. "Dunno how many more chances I'll have to do that."

"Don't be such a Danny Downer," Steve scolded.

"I'm not!" Danny protested.

"Really?" Steve asked.

"Well, maybe I am, but at least today I have a right to be."

"Come on, Danny," Steve repeated. "You can bitch at me as much as you want – and I promise I won't complain."

Danny hesitated.

"Scout's honor," Steve said, holding up the scout salute and putting on his most sincere face.

Danny scrubbed his hand through his hair.

"I still have the keys," Steve teased, dangling them again.

"Fuck you," Danny said, climbing into the car.

"Good choice," Steve said, getting in himself.

Steve flipped through several radio stations until he found a suitably drippy '80s love anthem to annoy Danny with. Danny played to form, stabbing at the radio buttons and muttering under his breath about the ukulele tunes and bubblegum pop that seemed to dominate the local airwaves. He finally paused on the local public radio station, which was replaying Denning's earlier press conference, including Freed's taped message.

They listened intently, each nodding occasionally as Freed made his case.

"Damn, he's good," Steve said.

"No argument from me."

"Glad he's on our side," Steve added, pulling into his driveway.

Danny nodded in agreement, getting out of the car and slamming the door shut. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and waited for Steve to go ahead, following behind as Steve unlocked the front door and entered the alarm codes.

"You want anything to eat? Beer, maybe?" Steve asked on his way across the room to unlock the back doors.

"Nah, I'm stuffed," Danny said. "And I need to pace myself or I'm not gonna be able to drive home later."

"All right, suit yourself," Steve replied, stepping outside to stare at the waters. Danny followed closely behind.

Steve silently made his way to the beat-up old wooden chairs parked on his back lawn near the water's edge. He lowered himself into a chair and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He looked up as Danny joined him in another of the chairs. The golden light of the early evening sun reflected off the waters, casting long shadows across the lawn.

Danny had tired of replaying the morning in his head – the more he thought about Martin's words, Steve's speech, and his own feeble recovery, the more depressed he became. He stared out at the puffy pink and orange clouds which were reflected in the receding before them.

He looked over and recognized the look on Steve's face. Steve sat with his arms dropped by his side, one leg crossed over the other, his lips set in a defiant was mentally replaying the day, and it would only be a matter of time before he returned to the moment when they turned the helo around and left Wo Fat futilely firing bullets at them from the ground. _Wait for it…._ Danny told himself.

_How could we let Wo Fat get away again?_ Steve asked himself.

Danny watched Steve, brooding and finally couldn't stand it any longer. _And I'm wallowing in self-pity?_ "Would you please stop?" Danny complained. "Please? We didn't have a choice. We had to let Wo Fat go. And, we are going to find him, I promise. Okay?"

Steve nodded skeptically; he'd made those promises himself many times, sometimes with more success than others. And he wasn't sure they'd be able to make the charges stick any better this time than in the past…even if they could actually catch the bastard.

An unexpected voice interrupted their reverie. "Mind if I join you guys?"

Steve and Danny turned around to see Sam Denning strolling across Steve's lawn. He wore a straw hat, dark olive board shorts, a pair of brown leather sandals, and what was possibly the ugliest Hawaiian shirt Danny had yet seen – a fact even he found hard to believe, given some of the doozies he knew Chin had stashed in his closet.

"Hey," said Danny. His phone began ringing as he, along with Steve, stood to greet their visitor.

"Of course, Governor," Steve quickly responded.

Denning pointed back at the seats. "Sit, sit, we're not on the clock."

Danny glanced down at the caller ID on his ringing phone and replied, "Oh, no. I gotta take this," he said. He gently placed a friendly hand on Denning's shoulder to guide him towards his own recently vacated seat. "Sit down, please," Danny said, as he walk-jogged as quickly as he could politely manage back towards the house to get some privacy. He looked grimly back at Steve as he left.

Denning held out a six-pack of Longboards to Steve and asked, "Your brand?"

"Yes, sir. Thank you," Steve said, accepting a beer. He stole a sidelong glance at Danny's retreating figure before returning his attention to Denning. "What's the occasion?"

"Powers cracked under questioning," said Denning, taking a seat.

"Huh," Steve grunted, resisting the urge to turn around and check on Danny and trying to focus on Denning. Steve tossed the cap from his beer onto the table and sat down as well.

"He admitted he was in bed with Wo Fat," Denning continued.

"Really," Steve replied, still only half-listening. He watched as Denning sat down in Danny's chair, dropping his hat on the ground beside him. "He almost pulled that one off, huh?" Steve said, gazing at the ocean, keenly aware that Denning was watching him studiously.

Denning paused for a moment, seeming to search for what he wanted to say next. "I owe you," he finally said.

"No sir, just doing my job," Steve replied dutifully.

"No, you went above and beyond. And…" Denning paused again before adding, "I'm sorry."

Those words caught Steve's full attention. "Sir?"

"I should've been straight with you from the start," Denning admitted. Steve nodded barely perceptibly. "Trust," he mused. "It, um, well, it's a mighty big word."

Steve smiled and nodded. "Yeah, it is." He tried to keep his mind on his conversation as the deafening silence from his lanai kept him wary. He had expected – or he cautioned himself, at least he had hoped – to hear a whoop of joy, or an excited "hot damn." When all he heard coming from Danny's direction were quietly-spoken conversation, Steve began to dread the worst.

_Trust,_ he thought. _Rachel sure gave Danny cause to abandon all trust._

Steve's mind turned to Amy Davidson, her bullet-punctured forehead still forming a vivid afterimage in his mind. _If only she'd trusted us sooner. Damned Wo Fat_. _He got to her._ Images flashed by in Steve's mind of others he'd trusted, others who hadn't trusted him with the truth. _Pat Jameson. Jenna Kaye. John McGarrett._

"And if I may…" Steve began, before the governor interrupted.

"Of course," Denning said, "I'm sitting in shorts drinking beer with you. All right, fire away and don't hold back."

"I got a lot of respect for you, sir. Got a lot of respect for the office, but if this thing between us is gonna work out then honesty is the best policy. Your predecessor, she didn't believe that, and uh, well, it got her killed."

Denning nodded soberly in acknowledgement. "Well, that was her. This is me," he said. Then he held out his beer and proposed a toast: "To Five 0."

"All right." Steve nodded his agreement and the beer bottles clanked. Steve looked down, his thoughts returning to Danny. _Shit, what if this is it? What if he's moving to Vegas. So much for Five-0._

After a few more moments that seemed to stretch on interminably, Danny made his way back towards them, pocketing his cell phone. "Hey," he said.

"Hey," Steve replied, trying to remain as casual as possible.

"Uh…." Danny began. He stood with his hands on his hips; his hesitation only fueled Steve's concern.

"You all good?" Steve asked.

"Uh…" Danny began again. He raised his hand, as if to make a point – a very important and complicated point, and finally found the words to concisely say, "She's not moving."

It took a moment for Steve to process the words he'd hoped to hear, but wasn't altogether convinced were coming. Steve frowned trying to make sure he'd heard correctly. "Grace?" A hopeful smile began tugging at his face.

"The judge ruled in my favor," Danny said breathlessly. "Shared custody!" Upon hearing those words, Steve could no longer contain the wave of relief he felt or the smile that spread across his face.

"She cannot leave the island," Danny continued, and then, for emphasis, he repeated, "She can _not_ leave the island. Huh? Huh?" Danny gave a restrained victorious fist pump, waiting for Steve's response.

Steve could feel the elation bubbling inside himself. He put down his beer and stood up, clapping his hands together excitedly. His first instinct was to grab Danny and spin him around in a bear hug, but conscious of their esteemed company, and the freshly-broken ice between them, thought twice.

Danny, too, was keenly aware of their audience, who watched one then the other with interest, only marginally aware of Danny's custodial issues. But despite their hesitation, the occasion was too momentous to let pass and they wrapped each other in a warm embrace. Steve could feel Danny's giddy laughter bubbling through him as he held tight, grateful he wouldn't be losing his partner, best friend, or the little girl he'd come to love as well.

Denning looked on amusedly at the two ass-kicking alpha males who stood before him hugging and back-patting for dear life.

Steve smiled warmly. "Congratulations."

"Thank you, buddy," Danny replied, beaming back.

Sensing the need for a celebration, not to mention someone to break the silence, Denning uncapped another beer and handed it to Danny. "Congratulations."

"Thank you," Danny said, gratefully accepting the beer.

Finally able to let down his guard and relax, Danny grinned, relishing an opportunity to stick it to Steve. "Uh, the judge said that your courtroom behavior was completely unacceptable and despicable…"

"Oh, come on!" Steve protested with mock indignity.

The governor was not surprised and smiled in recognition, not realizing that it was his own phone call that had precipitated a good portion of said unacceptable behavior.

"But," Danny added, pleased, "she also said that you were a _fantastic_ character witness, so thank you very much." He raised his beer in salute.

Steve beamed and clinked his bottle. "You're welcome…I'll remind you of that later."

Danny laughed in response. "I'm sure you will."

"Well done, gentlemen," Denning said.

Steve returned to his seat, leaving Danny standing and staring off into the surf and sand he detested. "I can't believe I'm actually happy to be staying here."

"Neither can I," Steve added.

Danny chortled and Denning chuckled knowingly – even in the few hours he'd spent with Danny Williams, he'd grown well aware about the detective's feelings about his island.

Steve raised his beer in toast, "To Hawai'i."

Denning seconded. "To Hawai'i."

Both looked expectantly at Danny, who mumbled, "To, uh…." He waved his hands, not quite able to bring himself to complete the thought. Steve's smug, know-it-all smile reminded Danny of everything that both drove him nuts and tied him to the damn pineapple infested hellhole. _Oh, fuck it,_ he thought. "Uh…to Hawaii," he finally said, with the characteristically haole lack of glottal stop. "Okay. Okay," he reluctantly added, his sheepish smile giving him away.

The governor laughed heartily and Steve smirked knowingly at Danny. _You're staying…_

Steve couldn't resist a wink when the governor's back was turned. … _And you're happy about it._ Danny shook his head, staring at the ground and still trying to hide his grin.

"To Hawai'i!" they repeated for emphasis, laughing to the cheerful clink of bottles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is definitely one final chapter to come, because, after all, everyone wants to know what happens when Denning FINALLY gets out of the hair of our favorite BAMF (about freakin' time). Thanks for hanging in there and reading. Hope you enjoyed the story so far and the revisions. Feedback always appreciated.


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